The Most Forgiven
by wildcat7898
Summary: Kirk, Spock, and Uhura clash over the events surrounding the Khittomer peace treaty. This story follows "The Real Thing."
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Most Forgiven

Author: Wildcat

Series: TOS

Rating: M

Codes: S/U

Summary: Kirk, Spock, and Uhura clash over the events surrounding the Khittomer peace treaty.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Kirk, Spock, Uhura, and company. I have just borrowed them for a while. I will not profit from any of this.

This story is part of my Spock/Uhura universe. It takes place between The Real Thing and Listening for the Waves.

As always, thanks to my beta readers Jungle Kitty and Suzie.

This story won 1st place for "Best General Pairing" in the 2000 ASC Awards. It also won 1st place for "Best TOS Het," 1st place for "Best S/U," 3rd place for "Best Overall," and 3rd place for "Best TOS Story" in the 2000 Golden O Awards.

Feedback is desired.

_They who forgive most shall be most forgiven_.

~ Josiah Bailey ~

The Most Forgiven, prologue

Stepping down from the transporter pad, Uhura hefted her duffel onto her shoulder and smiled. "Fancy meeting you here."

The man behind the transporter console sighed heavily. "No offense, lass, but this is the last place I want to be right now. Did ye know that I just bought a boat? She needs a lot of attention, and I'd planned on spending the rest of the week with her."

Her hands on her hips, she said, "Montgomery Scott, I never thought I'd see the day that you would rather be someplace other than on the Enterprise."

"I suppose I can't deny that it's good to be back." A grudging lightness had crept into his voice. "Even if it's just for one last mission. And what a mission! Escorting the Klingons to peace talks. No one can say that we didna go out in a big way."

"Very true. Is Spock here yet?"

"He beamed aboard about five minutes ago."

"Wonderful! I haven't seen him for nearly a month."

"Och, then ye'd best be going." Scotty tilted his head appraisingly. "First, though, tell me something. I couldn't help but notice the look on your face when Spock walked into that meeting today. You were just as surprised as the rest of us. Did ye have no idea what he'd been up to?"

"Nope. I knew that he was working with his father, but no matter how much I pestered him, he wouldn't tell me a thing. You'd better believe that I'm going to get some details now."

"Aye, I'm sure ye will. Hurry on, then. I'll see ye on the bridge shortly."

She left the transporter room and headed toward her quarters. Finally! She'd thought that this moment would never come. The first week Spock had been gone, she'd had fun doing all those little things she liked to do when alone. She'd slept late, explored dusty old bookstores, even guiltily indulged in a big, juicy cheeseburger with greasy fries. It had quickly grown old, however. Funny, how she'd been perfectly content to live a solitary life for so many years. That seemed so long ago now.

Just two days ago, she'd stood at the window of their apartment and thought about how much she missed him. As if on cue, the computer had signaled an incoming call, and she'd been pleasantly surprised to see his handsome face. He had said that he'd picked up on her wistful mood and called to see how she was doing. It had been an interesting conversation. He had even hinted that he might come home soon, but she hadn't realized just how soon.

And boy, she'd had no idea in what manner.

She had almost fallen out of her seat earlier today when he walked from the back of that meeting room. Her mind spinning, she'd listened as he told them all about the disaster on Praxis and the upcoming peace talks with the Klingons. She'd been so proud she could hardly stand it. Of course, she had mixed feelings about dealing with the Klingons, but she was trying not to think about that part right now. Instead, she only wanted to bask in the accomplishments of her husband.

Captain Kirk, though...

She exhaled softly as she thought of the captain's reaction. He'd made no secret of the fact that he wasn't at all pleased about what Spock had done, but she supposed that was understandable. He had a long history with the Klingons, and besides, he, Dr. McCoy, and Scotty had accumulated enough leave that none of them had expected to return to active duty before official retirement. Although she hadn't talked to the captain for weeks, she knew that he was completely caught up in the new ranch he had just bought. He wasn't happy to have been dragged away from it.

She quickened her pace when she neared their quarters, and she swept through the door without breaking stride.

"Spock?"

"Back here, Nyota."

She followed the sound of his voice to the bedroom and launched herself into his arms when he turned to greet her. Caught off-guard by her enthusiasm, he dropped a stack of clothing, but he gamely returned the embrace.

She drew back to look into his eyes. "Oh, I missed you. I'm so glad you're back. And I can't believe what you've done. The Klingons! Spock, how incredible!"

"I find it rather difficult to believe, myself, but Chancellor Gorkon is quite sincere. We have truly reached a crossroads, and I am honored to be a participant." He rested his fingers against her cheek. "I am also quite pleased to finally share this experience with you. I found it difficult to keep the content of my mission a secret."

She smiled. "I'm sure you did. Well, you can tell me now. I want to hear all the juicy details."

"There is not much more to tell you." He released her and knelt to retrieve the items he had dropped. "Gorkon's aide contacted Sarek through unofficial channels, informing him that the chancellor wished to talk. Gorkon could not contact the Federation openly, for his people would have perceived that as a sign of weakness. Therefore, Sarek requested that I open discussions under the guise of the Federation's extending the first olive branch, as it were. The rest, you know."

She chuckled. "Your father sure is subtle, isn't he?"

He straightened. "Not subtle enough. I am very aware that he wants me to join him in a career of diplomacy. He assumes that success in this venture will entice me to continue."

"And?"

He shook his head. "While I have found this experience satisfying, I do not think I would wish to do it permanently."

She moved toward the bed and dropped her duffel next to his. "So, have you given any more thought to what you do want to do after you leave Starfleet?"

"I am still in dialogue with the research department at the University of Stockholm, and I received a missive yesterday from Cochrane Industries. In addition, I have not yet discounted the offer from Dr. McMillan to become her partner on her upcoming project. I have a number of options."

"But none of them really grab you."

He raised an eyebrow at her colloquial speech, but simply responded, "No."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find something interesting. Just make sure it's on Earth. I was really looking forward to chairing that seminar at Headquarters today, and I think I'm going to tell them that I'll accept their offer of a permanent posting."

"Indeed? I believe that is a wise choice, although I must confess I had thought you might change your mind about staying in Starfleet once you learned what the others intended to do with their time."

"You thought I might want to buy a boat or move to a ranch? Not me. I'm too young to retire. I still have a lot I want to do." She moved close enough to wrap her arms around his waist. "You know, speaking of ranches, the captain wasn't very happy to be pulled away from his today."

"The captain was unhappy about a great deal. The ranch was the least of it."

"I know. This is a big opportunity, though. Maybe he'll be able to get past his personal feelings once we're underway."

"That is my hope."

They were quiet for a long moment as they gazed at one another. Finally, she broke the silence.

"I meant it when I said that I want you to stay on Earth. I missed you, Spock. I couldn't stand for these separations to become routine."

"I would not want that either, Nyota. I missed you, too."

Closing her eyes, she tilted her face up to his, inviting a kiss. He didn't disappoint her, his touch gentle as he brushed his lips against hers. She responded by sliding her hands around his neck and pressing herself against him, and the next thing she knew, their soft kisses had flared into a passionate embrace. His body was so warm, so hard, so welcome... She'd literally ached for this, and now that she had him next to her, she didn't want to let him go.

"I'm due on the bridge as soon as I unpack," she groaned.

Running his lips along her jaw, he tickled her ear when he replied, "How long might it take you to 'unpack'?"

"Not long enough." She backed away on wobbly knees. "I want to be with you so bad, but I want it to last. I want us to take our time and savor every moment. I don't want to be in a hurry."

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Of course."

Studying his face, she noticed the flush that colored his skin, the darkness of his eyes, and the fullness of his lips. His body had felt so good next to hers.

"We should wait." She caught her lip between her teeth, then said, "Or we can go for rushed and do it now."

They stared at one another until Spock stepped forward. "I recommend 'rushed.'"

"Oh yes, rushed. Definitely. Rushed."

Reaching for his jacket, she opened it and pushed it off his shoulders. She could feel his hands on her doing the same. She slowed him when he removed her shirt, since she didn't want to wreck her hair, but within moments they tossed the rest of their clothing to the side and threw themselves onto the bed.

She laughed at their haste, but moaned an instant later when she felt his hand between her legs. She knew that she was already very wet from seeing him today after their separation, listening to him speak in the meeting, knowing that it was her husband who had engineered such a stunning triumph, watching his cool composure while thinking of what they would do once they were alone...

She moved against him, throwing her head back with abandon. _Yes_. This is what she'd imagined during the meeting today, the feel of his strong fingers touching her and exploring her. And in her imagination, she'd pushed him onto his back and straddled him, right there in the conference room with no one else present.

"Touch my thoughts," she whispered. "I have something to show you."

He moved his hand to her temple. "It must be stimulating, judging by your response. I can tell through our bond that you are exceedingly aroused." He found her meld points and swallowed hard. "Ah... yes..."

She smiled at his reaction to the image in her mind. "You were so incredible today, I wanted to jump on you right there."

"So I see." Holding her, he rolled onto his back. "Would you care to demonstrate?"

"Well, first I would have done this." She came to her hands and knees and kissed him, holding him down by his upper arms and carefully allowing only her nipples to brush his chest. "Then, I would have done this." Moving her hand, she grasped him, lowering herself so that just the tip of his erection pressed against her body. "And then..." She smiled, holding his eyes as she teased him, making him wait. "I would have done... this."

She pushed herself back with one smooth motion. Neither of them moved immediately, and she watched him close his eyes as he savored the sensation. Soon, though, she grew impatient and began to rock slowly against him, concentrating on the delicious feeling of his hardness sliding in and out.

He transferred his hands to her hips, urging her to move more forcefully. "Do you often have thoughts such as these during meetings?" he asked, obviously finding it difficult to talk.

She shifted her knees as she responded to his desire to pick up the pace, and suddenly she wondered why she had ever wanted to take it slow. This urgent, almost feverish rush, this blind need-it seemed so appropriate after their long separation. And she loved the sound of their bodies coming together like this: the slapping of flesh against flesh, the heavy breathing, the reflexive little grunts and moans, the creaking of the bed.

She licked her lips and finally answered his question.

"It depends on the subject. Staff..." She paused to gasp for breath. "...doesn't do anything for me. Landing party briefings make me mildly horny. But descriptions of diplomatic encounters with peaceful Klingons, especially when a sexy Vulcan leads the discussion... Oh, oh..."

She dug her fingers into his forearms, arching her back while he pulsated within her. As if from a distance, she heard him groan, and she continued to ride him until his faltering rhythm finally stilled altogether. She opened her eyes to find him watching her.

He took a deep breath. "Perhaps I should not be so hasty to reject a career in diplomacy."

Laughing with delight, she ran her hands across his chest. "I get really turned on by scientific research, too."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "I am pleased to hear that."

She gazed at him for a long moment but finally sighed. "I'd love to stay here, but I suppose that I need to be getting to the bridge." She kissed him and reluctantly climbed off the bed. "What are you going to do now?"

Stretched out on his back, he clasped his hands across his chest. "I am not due on the bridge soon, so first I shall unpack. For both of us."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"It is the least I can do. Then, I believe that I will meditate. Of course, that is assuming I can get up from the bed. I am quite comfortable at the moment."

"You certainly look it." Dressed, she sat down next to him. "Well, I'll see you in a bit. Maybe we can do this again later. I'd still like to take it slow."

He raised an eyebrow. "After this, it might be slower than you intend."

She laughed. "We'll see."

She kissed him again and walked toward the door, but she paused at the last minute to take one more look around their quarters-their home for the last six years. Soon it would be someone else's home. She sighed and stepped through the door.

So much was changing in their lives. After years and years of being in Starfleet together, after countless missions and untold hours on the bridge, they'd all decided to call it quits-not just her and Spock, but everyone. Except for Sulu, who would always be one of them even though he had a command all his own, Uhura alone remained in Starfleet. And she knew that she'd be planetbound from here on out, by her own choice.

Although her breath caught in her throat at the thought of such a drastic change, she found that her nervousness and sense of loss were mixed with a low-key, eager excitement. Facing the future, a new tomorrow, just her and Spock... They could do anything they wanted. She had enough pull that she'd get any posting she desired, and people were practically breaking their door down to get to him. Satisfaction swelled within her-physically, emotionally, mentally, she felt so good.

She nodded politely at the new lieutenant, Valeris, when they passed one another in the corridor, but then had to stifle a chuckle when she realized that the young woman was stopping at their door. Poor Spock-he'd better get dressed, and soon. The mental image of his reaction to being roused so abruptly from post-coital bliss finally caused a laugh to bubble up from deep inside, and she had to hurry around the corner to hide it. Yes, she felt good.

_Life_ was good.

Life was good. Life was good...

End prologue

The Most Forgiven, chapter 1

"Admiral Cartwright," Spock intoned.

As his voice cut through the utter silence on the bridge of the Enterprise, Uhura swallowed past the bile that threatened to rise from her throat. How could everything have changed so much in only a matter of days? She and Spock had been so pleased about his accomplishments, but who could ever have predicted that it would end like this?

This...

This was a nightmare. This couldn't be real. Her devoted, considerate husband stood with his hands on a young woman's face, ruthlessly violating her, taking what he wanted with no thought for anyone else. Those beautiful hands, so gentle when they had last touched Uhura before Gorkon was murdered and everything began to fall apart, were committing such an ugly act now. That incredible mind forced itself into a young woman's psyche, gradually ripping away the terrifying secrets she tried so desperately to hold.

Kirk stood. "Who else?"

"General Chang."

Their voices almost dreamy, Spock and Valeris chanted the name of the second conspirator in unison. Valeris had tried to pull away, but Spock had yanked her toward him, his fingers digging into her flesh. Now, he stripped away not only her barriers, but also her Vulcan dignity. Revulsion and pain twisted the young woman's features, and Uhura belatedly realized that she must have made some noise, herself. Scotty turned to her with open pity, but she couldn't look away from the scene at the front of the bridge long enough to acknowledge his quiet support.

Kirk repeated his demand. "Who else?"

"Romulan Ambassador Nanclus."

"Where is the peace conference?" Kirk tensed. "Where is the peace conference?"

Spock moved his left hand from the back of Valeris' neck to her face, and Uhura's vision swam with unshed tears.

_No, Spock. No, no, no. Stop here. Don't do it._

Although she willed him to hear her silent plea, she knew that he was oblivious. She looked to their bond, and she found nothing but cold steel and hard ice, opaque and unreadable. He'd forgotten her, his friends, the bridge crew... All that existed was his quest to set right the sequence of events he'd unwittingly unleashed. And yes, she knew that in a misguided way, he thought that what he was doing was right, but somehow that only made it worse. These actions were not acceptable. They were not logical. Two wrongs did not make a right. He was too angered by the betrayal to see that, however, and he was allowing events to sweep him along as if he had no control over what might happen. He was too consumed with guilt from the mistakes that had sent Kirk and McCoy to Rura Penthe, and he would do anything to set things right again.

Anything.

Valeris cried out as Spock probed ever deeper into her mind, and Uhura tightened her grip on the railing to keep from crying out, herself. This had to end. Stop, stop...

Finally, mercifully, Spock turned away, leaving Valeris trembling and lost. As the Vulcan woman struggled to find her last few shreds of composure, Uhura felt an unexpected wave of sympathy. In the name of the Federation, Valeris had committed unspeakable deeds, but she had just become the victim of another unspeakable deed, one committed by a man who should have been above such an act.

"She does not know," Spock said in a strained voice.

Scotty sighed in resignation. "Then we're dead."

"I have been dead before." Spock walked toward the science station, his face and voice utterly expressionless. He did not meet anyone's eyes. "Contact Excelsior. She will have the coordinates."

Pushing down her roiling emotions, Uhura turned to her board, and in doing so, turned away from Spock-the ruthless stranger she suddenly didn't recognize.

...

Spock sat at his desk and stared blindly at the computer. He had come to his quarters with the intention of searching Starfleet records for signs of additional co-conspirators, but he could not concentrate. His task was most likely futile, at any rate. Admiral Cartwright would not be so careless as to leave discernible traces of his activities, or at least not where they could be located from this distance.

"Computer off. Lights at five percent."

Intending to rise and exchange his uniform for his meditation robe, he instead rested his elbows on the desktop and leaned his forehead against his hands. Admiral Cartwright and his cohorts had been exceedingly crafty, but he, himself, had been stupid. The evidence had been right in front of him all along. Valeris had even tried to tell him of her beliefs, but he had not listened. For that, Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy had almost died. For that, peace might now be an impossibility. For that, he had been forced to-

No. He would not think of what he had done. It had been necessary.

He looked up at a sound from the door and experienced an unexpected surge of gratitude when his wife entered the room. Except for hushed discussions of Kirk's whereabouts and Starfleet's demands that the ship return to dock, they'd been allowed no opportunity for private conversation. He wished very much to be near her, to hear her warm voice, to feel her gentle touch.

He came to his feet and moved toward her. "Nyota."

Her face contorted, she held up both hands as if to ward him off. Clearly struggling to express herself, she finally said, "What have you done?"

He stopped. "I do not understand."

She took another step in his direction. "You used your physical and mental strength to force yourself on that woman. Who are you? My husband would never do something so awful."

Seeking out their bond, he found only a wretched coldness. He shook his head in confusion. "I did only what I had to do."

"What you had to do?" Her voice grew louder. "What you had to do? It was nothing less than... than... rape. It was rape, Spock! How could you?"

"She betrayed the Federation. We must stop the killing here, before it goes any further."

"So that's it? The end justifies the means?" A plea in her eyes, she watched him. "Just explain to me how you thought it was all right to do what you did. Was it because you were angry at Valeris? Was it only because of the mission? Was it because the captain asked you to? Please explain it to me. I want to understand."

He swallowed and dropped his eyes.

"Oh, God." Her tone was suddenly subdued. "That's it. You did it because the captain asked you to."

"I did it because it had to be done."

"You did it because you were angry, and when he asked, you didn't resist." Even though he did not look up, he could tell that she had turned away. "Everything that man has ever asked you to do, you've done," she whispered. "When is it too much, Spock? When does he finally ask too much of you?"

The silence stretched between them until he said, "I do not know what to tell you."

They stood, unmoving, until he heard her footsteps. He finally raised his chin when the light from the corridor spilled into the room, but all he caught was a glimpse of her back before the room grew dark again. His eyes on the closed door, he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Was she simply overwrought because of the mission? Why could she not understand that their only hope of salvaging this situation was to know what the conspirators planned for the peace conference?

Moving slowly through their quarters, he shrugged out of his jacket and replaced it with his robe. He had much to sort out: Valeris' betrayal, the chaos he had unleashed on Kirk and McCoy, and the network of conspiracy that bound the Federation and the Klingons together.

When he stretched out to meditate, however, the images that filled his mind were the defiance and terror in Valeris' eyes as she trembled under his hands only hours before, and the look of revulsion and uncertainty in his wife's eyes just now.

...

Uhura leaned against the corridor wall by their door and closed her eyes. She'd intended to talk reasonably with him, but when she'd walked in to find him sitting in the dark with his head in his hands, she'd suddenly become so angry she couldn't stand it. He'd so clearly needed-and expected-her sympathy, and for some reason that very neediness had set her off. Who was he to expect sympathy after what he had done? Maybe she was being irrational, but she could have handled unemotional logic, cold justification, or even belligerent argument from him. But she hadn't been prepared for his vague, befuddled, and abject refusal to consider that what he had done was wrong.

Straightening when she heard Kirk's voice coming in her direction, she decided that she was going to discuss this with him. She might be making a huge mistake, but so be it. At this point, she didn't give a damn.

Scotty walked beside him. "If that ship really can fire while cloaked, Captain, the Enterprise will be a sitting duck."

"I know, Scotty. Sulu's on his way. We'll just have to hope that he can make it in time. We certainly can't afford to wait on him."

"Aye. I know he'll do whatever it takes to join us. He's..."

Scotty's words trailed away as they both looked up to see her watching them. She could tell by Kirk's expression that he had already picked up on her mood.

"What is it Commander?" he asked. "Has something else gone wrong?"

"I'd like to speak with you alone, Captain." Her voice was unnaturally steady. "Someplace private."

"All right. Let's go to my quarters."

He dismissed Scotty with a nod, and the two of them walked to his quarters. Neither spoke until the door had closed behind them.

"Okay. Shoot," he said.

She held his eyes for a long moment, but her ironclad composure faltered and she glanced away. Kirk took a step in her direction.

"What is it, Uhura?"

Instead of welcoming his concern, she bristled. "How could you have asked Spock to force that information from Valeris?"

He leaned back, obviously surprised by her tone. "Excuse me, Commander?"

"How could you have asked him to do that? Don't you know how abhorrent that is to a Vulcan?"

He matched her steely demeanor. "You were there. We had no other choice. Spock knew that. He didn't question my decision because we both understood our duty."

"Duty?" She practically spat the word. "Is that all it meant to you? Is Spock just a tool for you to use?"

"Yes, actually, in that case, he was. As are all my crew. As they would be to him, if required." His expression grew hard. "Including you."

"So you think that makes it all right? That young woman-"

"You seem to be forgetting, Commander, that your 'young woman' betrayed the Federation."

"That doesn't excuse it! You asked him to rape her, without a second thought." She watched him closely. "Rape. It's an ugly word, isn't it? Did you know that's what it was? Rape? Mindrape. An inexcusable violation. A trespass. Brutality."

"You're out of line, Commander."

She squared her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Captain, but right now I don't care. I can't let this pass without speaking up."

"All right. Let's speak freely, then. You don't like what I did. You're angry. But where's Spock? How does he feel about it? Why isn't he here instead of you?"

She shook her head at the absurdity of his question. "Don't you understand? He'll never question you. If you order him to jump, he jumps. If you tell him to risk his life, consider it done. If you ask him to mindrape a young girl, he acts without hesitation."

She cringed at the tremor that had crept into her voice with that last sentence, but she stood her ground.

"Uhura, you seem to be forgetting that your husband has a mind of his own. Heaven knows that we haven't always seen eye to eye."

"Sure, he'll express his opinion if it differs from yours, but when push comes to shove, has he ever denied you? The worst part is that you knew you'd get what you wanted with just a word. One word! All you had to do was say his name, and it was done."

She paused for his answer, but he clearly didn't have one.

Softening, she said, "He's always been like that with you. He wears rose-colored glasses where you're concerned. Don't you know that he'll refuse to see that what you asked of him was wrong? He blames himself for what happened to you and Dr. McCoy, and he'll act against every belief he's ever held to atone for that."

Kirk took a deep breath. "Uhura, what he did had to be done. You know that."

"I know that what he did could very well destroy him." She was quiet as her words sunk in. "And that it will be on your conscience."

He straightened authoritatively. "I concede that he had to make a sacrifice, but it was in the line of duty. Now we have to ensure that his sacrifice wasn't in vain. I'm due on the bridge, Commander, and so are you."

Clearly, that was the end of the discussion. Letting him see the disappointment in her eyes, she held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

She turned crisply on her heel and left.

...

"Computer. Location of Captain Spock."

"Captain Spock is in his quarters."

Rubbing his face, Kirk walked down the corridor. Although he'd refused to admit to Uhura that she might be right, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what she had said.

Had it been rape? Had he asked too much of his old friend this time? He'd made it clear from the beginning of the mission that he thought Spock hadn't trusted him. Was the mind-meld Spock's attempt to demonstrate loyalty? It was a horrible thought. Had he caused the most steadfast man he'd ever known to feel like he had something to prove?

He signaled his presence at Spock's quarters and waited, but there was no response. Signaling again, he finally told the computer to open the door. If Spock was asleep or in the shower, he'd just ease back out, but he thought it more likely that Spock was ignoring the signal.

He stepped into darkness. "Spock?"

Silence.

Reaching for the environmental controls, he stopped when he heard a subdued voice.

"I prefer it dark."

He frowned and finally realized that Spock was reclining in the meditation alcove just a few steps in front of him.

"Dining on ashes?"

"You were right. It was arrogant presumption on my part that got us into this situation. You and the doctor might have been killed."

Kirk hesitated. He'd never seen his friend like this, almost... depressed. There was no other word for it. Judging by his comment, though, he seemed to be dwelling on the sequence of events that had landed them on Rura Penthe, rather than the scene on the bridge with Valeris. Maybe Uhura was wrong about what truly disturbed him the most.

Forcing a deliberate lightness into his voice, Kirk said, "The night is young."

When Spock didn't answer, Kirk strolled over to the counter and picked up a small cup, casually swishing the contents. Assuming that it held fragrant Vulcan tea, he lifted it to his nose and grimaced when he realized that it held stale coffee. Of course, the lipstick on the edge should have been his first clue that it wasn't something of Spock's.

He glanced over at the very still, very silent figure on the meditation platform. Maybe the best way to reassure a Vulcan would be to use that Vulcan's own words.

"You said it yourself. It was logical. Peace is worth a few personal risks."

He put down the glass, hoping that Spock would pick up on the reference to his sacrifice on the bridge. Still, however, he received no reply.

Pacing back toward the meditation alcove, he continued. "You're a great one for logic. I'm a great one for rushing in where angels fear to tread. We're both extremists. Reality is probably somewhere in between. I couldn't get past the death of my son."

"I was prejudiced by her accomplishments as a Vulcan."

Finally. A response, and one that confirmed Kirk's assessment. Spock was more bothered by his poor judgment of Valeris' trustworthiness than by the mindmeld on the bridge.

Encouraged, he said, "Gorkon had to die before I understood how prejudiced I was."

Meeting Kirk's eyes for the first time, Spock pushed himself to a sitting position. "Is it possible that we two-you and I-have grown so old and so inflexible that we have outlived our usefulness? Would that constitute a joke?"

"Don't crucify yourself. It wasn't your fault."

"I was responsible."

Kirk moved closer to his friend, uncertain what Spock actually meant. Was he referring to the conspiracy? Of course that wasn't Spock's fault. It would be ridiculous to imply anything else. Or was he referring to the trial and subsequent exile to Rura Penthe? Kirk had put himself into that situation, and if anything, it was his fault McCoy got dragged into it, too.

Did he mean the mindmeld with Valeris? Uhura's voice drifted through his mind...

_He'll never question you. If you order him to jump, he jumps._

Feeling a twinge in his chest at this thought, Kirk decided to assume that he and Spock were talking about nothing more than Kirk's jeopardy at the hands of the angry Klingons.

"For no actions but your own."

"That is not what you said at your trial."

"That was as captain of the ship. Human beings-"

Spock held his eyes. "But Captain, we both know that I am not human."

"Spock, you want to know something? Everybody's human."

"I find that remark insulting."

Kirk smiled, relieved to hear Spock acting... like Spock. He gestured toward the door with his head. "C'mon. I need you."

End chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

The Most Forgiven, chapter 2

Walking into their apartment, Uhura loosened the top of her jacket and threw her satchel into the front closet. Today had been busy but fulfilling-she really thought that she was going to like this position at Headquarters. Four weeks after all hell had broken loose over the conspiracy, things were finally starting to settle down. Hopefully, everyone at HQ would find themselves back in a normal routine soon.

"Greetings, Nyota."

Unable to suppress a little shriek, she spun to see Spock standing in the kitchen holding a steaming kettle. She pressed her hand over her heart and sagged.

"Heavens, Spock. You nearly scared me to death. What are you doing here? I thought that you were going to spend the night in Stockholm."

"We completed our business early, so I returned home."

"Oh. How did it go? Did they offer you a position?"

"Yes." He reached for two cups. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Please." She waited a few seconds, then exhaled impatiently. "So are you going to tell me about it?"

He shrugged. "They wish for me to head their physics department."

"Really?" She walked into the kitchen. "That's great! I know how much you like their program there, and-"

"I refused their offer."

"What?"

"I refused their offer."

"Why?"

"They are grossly underfunded, and I found their facilities to be less than adequate."

"But that's why they need you at the helm! You could take care of those things. It's a very prestigious institution, and I'd think that you would welcome a challenge like that."

"I would not. I prefer research to politics."

He handed her the cup of tea and left the kitchen. Open-mouthed, she watched him move to the desk and turn on the computer. This was his second interview this week, and he'd been dissatisfied with both of them. She couldn't figure it out. He'd been talking about those positions since before he retired, and now he was completely unenthusiastic.

She followed him, unwilling to let it drop.

"Spock, I'm worried about you. Nothing has been right since... for a while, now. Don't you want to talk about it? If not to me, then to Dr. McCoy. He was asking me about you just a few days ago-"

"Ah. So now you are discussing my welfare with Dr. McCoy? I assure you that I am well."

Although his words seemed to express disapproval, his tone was resigned, as if he were simply going through the motions of objecting to McCoy's involvement. Uhura had to turn away so that he wouldn't see the dismay on her face. She was trying her best, but why did she even bother? He obviously didn't care. This had been going on for nearly a month now. He had no interest in anything-not traveling, not interviews, not seeing his friends, not conversation, not sex-he just existed, from day to day.

She took her tea back to the bedroom, to sit by herself.

...

Ducking his head against the sharp March wind, Spock stepped out of the train station and headed toward home. His meeting with the Turner Conglomerate had been edifying, but not in the way he had hoped. Such was the problem with commercial ventures. They worked to satisfy the marketing experts, and the true value of their research was often lost in the quest for profit. Perhaps he would do better to turn his attention away from the private sector.

He glanced up at the sky, wondering if it would begin raining before he made it to the farmers market. The early crops were slow to arrive this year, but he had grown so disinterested in hothouse produce that he made it a point to check often. It would be agreeable to have fresh vegetables for lunch, and Nyota would be appreciative if he found something unique for dinner.

Nyota...

He pulled his collar higher as he thought about Nyota. She seemed to be enjoying her new job. That was good. At least one of them had found a satisfying position. It was also fortunate that her professional life was fulfilling, for he knew that their home life was somewhat lacking at the moment. He tightened his lips as he thought of their latest exchange, this morning before she left for work. He had been dressing for his interview in Atlanta, and she had expressed the desire that he 'try harder' to find something he 'liked' about this position.

Illogical.

Her voice had been rather disapproving as she said that, but it was a tone he had heard often recently. As a matter of fact, he was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore. He knew perfectly well that she had been horrified by what happened with Valeris. She did not need to continually remind him of her opinion on the matter. True, they had not openly discussed it since the day it had happened, but the implication was always there. Always.

It was unfortunate that she could not accept that he had only done what was necessary. However, it would do no good to explain it to her once again. He had tried to explain himself that night, but she hadn't even attempted to hear him. She had kept her distance, both physically and emotionally, and as she had looked at him...

His step slowed, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to continue.

As she had looked at him that night, the expression in her eyes had made it very clear that she found his actions detestable, and perhaps even found _him_ detestable. His wife, his bondmate, his chosen life-partner had looked upon him with disgust and reprehension. And although she tried to disguise it, he suspected that those feelings had not faded.

The rain began to patter softly all about him, so he changed direction and increased his pace toward home.

...

Kirk kicked his boots off at the door and inhaled the heady scent of the stew he'd had bubbling all day. Working on the ranch sure gave him an appetite. It was a pity he didn't have anyone to share it with.

Then again, the veterinarian who'd been by to look at old Thunder the past three days seemed to be lingering more each time, and he knew that the smile she bestowed upon him meant more than just business as usual. She wasn't his typical type of woman-reserved, unexcitable, almost aloof-but he found that he was drawn to her nevertheless. Of course, it could be that he was drawn to her _because_ she was different from all the others.

Maybe he'd invite her to stay for dinner when she stopped by next Wednesday for Thunder's follow-up appointment.

Stirring the stew, he decided that it needed just a few more minutes to cook. A flashing light on his computer caught his attention, so he walked into his office and sat down.

"Computer. List messages."

"You have one message, from Dr. Leonard McCoy."

Kirk grinned. No doubt Bones wanted to brag about his grandkids' latest accomplishments.

"Computer. Play message."

The screen brightened to show McCoy's craggy face.

"Hi, Jim. Guess you're out on the farm somewhere. When are you going to come back to civilization for a visit? People are starting to ask about you. I tell them that you ran off with an Orion slave girl, and pretty soon they're going to start believing me."

He chuckled, then grew serious again. "Actually, I called to talk to you about Spock. I dropped by to see if he and Uhura wanted to grab a bite last weekend, but he would hardly even talk to me. That's how it was the last time I was at their place, too. Even though Uhura tried to be polite and cover for him, I could tell that she's about at the end of her rope. She and I went for a walk in the park instead, but she wouldn't say a word about what's going on. She was really worn down, not like herself at all. Do you know what's eating him? I'm starting to get a little concerned.

"I guess that's it. Catch you later. McCoy out."

Kirk leaned back in his seat and scratched his chin. It was probably a good thing he'd been out when McCoy called, because he hadn't talked to Spock since they left the Enterprise. He'd been so busy on the ranch, always a million things to do. McCoy wouldn't let him live it down if he confessed that he hadn't even called his old friend.

Better take care of that now.

"Computer. Place a call to Captain Spock in San Francisco."

A moment later, Uhura's face appeared on the screen. Although she'd been smiling when she answered, her smile grew fixed when she saw who it was. "Hello, Captain. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Working hard. I just realized that I hadn't talked to you two in a while, and I thought I'd check in to see how you're doing."

"We're fine, thank you."

A hint of frostiness could be heard in her tone, and Kirk couldn't help but respond in kind. He and she hadn't had a normal conversation since their confrontation over Valeris, and the angry words of that day hung heavily in the air between them.

"I'm glad to hear it. Is Spock around?"

"Yes. Hold on a moment, and I'll get him."

"I am right here, Nyota."

Spock responded before she could rise. She looked up and nodded, and Kirk frowned at the sight. Maybe it was just his imagination, but there almost seemed to be a strained wariness between the two of them. Before he could think further about it, Spock took her place.

Kirk smiled. "Hello, Spock. I realized earlier that I hadn't talked to you in a while, so I thought I'd call. How have you been?"

"Quite well, Jim. And you?"

"Oh, doing great. I'm really getting into the swing of things here at the ranch. It's a terrific place. You should come visit me sometime."

"I understand from Dr. McCoy that you have already built a new barn."

"It's a beauty, and I almost have a full stable now, too. I've been clearing the back forty, and as soon as the ground thaws a little more I have a crew lined up to dig out my new pond, and... Well, I've been too busy to even stop and take a breath, but that's all right. I'm really enjoying myself. I should have done this years ago."

"I am gratified to hear that."

"So tell me about what you've been doing. Have you found a job that you like?"

"Not yet, but I have a number of prospects. I visited a facility in Sydney today, and I hope next week to..."

Kirk listened as Spock expounded on his career opportunities. What was McCoy worried about? Spock might seem a little tired, maybe, but that could be due to any number of causes. Hell, he'd just returned from Australia, and they'd surely kept him going all day. That would be enough to wear anyone out. McCoy had probably just caught Spock on a bad day before.

Relaxing, Kirk dismissed McCoy's concerns. Everything was fine.

...

Perched on a barstool, McCoy looked over at his drinking companion. "So tell me. How's life been treating you?"

Uhura gestured with her wine glass. "Pretty good. You know that I'm working at HQ now, don't you? Let me tell you, that place has been like a bag full of jumping beans. Since news of the conspiracy broke, everyone has been looking over their shoulders and suspecting their closest co-workers. Things are beginning to settle down, though, and I think I'm really going to like it."

"Sounds good. Who are you working for?"

"Admiral Watanebe. She has a reputation for being a real hard-liner, but we get along all right."

McCoy nodded, then picked up his drink and watched the ice cubes swirl around in the glass. He really hadn't come here for small talk, but he wasn't sure how to bring up his intended topic gracefully. Damn Jim, anyway. How could he not see something that was as clear as the nose on his face? McCoy had really been steamed after they talked this morning. But even though he had still been pissed when he showed up at Spock's and Uhura's door an hour ago, he'd been careful not to show it. After all, it wouldn't do to storm in. As his granddaddy had always said, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

And you get to the inner workings of a Vulcan better with casual offhandedness than direct barbs.

It had taken him many years to learn that, but it was true. Of course, he wasn't discounting the fact that the occasional direct barb still had its uses, if for no other reason than pure self-satisfaction, but he hadn't wanted to start out that way this evening. As it had turned out, Spock had refused to come with him and Uhura, so all of his careful tactics had been wasted. He might as well have gotten in his digs and enjoyed himself.

He sighed. No, he couldn't have done that. It was obvious that things weren't right with Spock.

Uhura continued their conversation. "What about you? How are your grandchildren?"

McCoy couldn't help but puff out his chest. "They're doing great. Lenny-he's the one named after me-made the all-star hockey team. They're playing in a tournament in Fairbanks next weekend, and we're all going up to watch. Rachel was in the school's spelling bee a few days ago and just missed winning it all. Timothy, uh, his biggest accomplishment recently was freeing the gerbils at his kindergarten. He thought they needed a haircut, but they were a mite quicker than he expected." He chuckled fondly. "That Timmy. You have to keep your eye on him every second."

"They sound like a wonderful bunch."

"They are. I can't get enough of them." He shook his head. "Timmy reminds me a lot of Saavik when she was young, liable to say or do anything. Speaking of Saavik, have you talked to her recently?"

"She called last week. She tried to play it cool, but I could tell that she's really excited about being on the Curie."

"I'm sure she'll do great there." McCoy decided to go for broke. "So tell me. How's Spock doing?"

She grew very still and then looked down at her hands. "He's fine. He's still searching for a position. Nothing has really appealed to him yet, but I'm sure he'll find what he's looking for soon."

Choosing his words carefully, he said, "I haven't seen much of him recently. It seems like he might be avoiding me."

She looked up hastily. "Oh no, it's not you. It's, well-" Clamping her lips together, she looked down again.

"Uhura, is everything all right? Between you two? I can't help but notice that you haven't been your usual cheery self recently, and Spock... I can't figure him out. He's always had his moods, but this seems like something more."

She shook her head, her eyes still downcast. "We're fine."

Reaching over to cover her hand with his own, he said, "Nyota, the two of you are my friends. I care about you. And I've known you too long to believe that everything is fine."

She slowly met his gaze but didn't say anything.

"Maybe I can help," he added.

Despair crept into her eyes, and she licked her lips and looked up at the ceiling. "You're too astute, Doctor."

"So do you want to talk about it?"

She hesitated for a long moment, then seemed to melt. "Ever since... ever since our last mission, he's grown harder and harder to live with. It's like he's slowly withdrawing into his own world. He's obsessed with finding the perfect job, yet nothing is good enough. He wanders the apartment at odd hours of the night, and he never has anything to say." She pushed her fingers through her hair. "We sleep in the same bed and we eat at the same table, but we don't share our lives anymore. I don't know what to do."

He nodded sympathetically. "What does he say about it?"

"He maintains that everything is fine. He won't admit that he has a problem, much less try to figure out what it is." She sighed. "But I know that everything is not all right. I can see it every day. And every day it gets worse."

"To be honest, I've seen it, too. Things just aren't right with him. Do you know what's causing this behavior? Is it retirement? Sometimes it can be hard to adjust to such a big change in life."

"It's..." She took a shaky breath. "...the forced mindmeld with Valeris. He's always had such strong principles, yet he did this awful thing and now he can't cope with it. He tries to fool himself that it was nothing, but I know it's tearing him up." She hung her head. "He refuses even to consider that what he did might have been wrong, and he refuses to consider that Captain Kirk shouldn't have asked it of him."

"Have you discussed this, specifically? Does he know you feel this way?"

"Oh, yes. I let him have it just afterwards," she said bitterly. "I didn't mince words. I really cut him to shreds. He didn't even try to defend himself and still doesn't. He simply maintains that what he did, he had to do."

"Have you considered the fact that he might be right?"

She looked up in disbelief. "How could that be right?"

"We needed the information. We had no choice-"

"But don't you understand? He raped her! It was nothing less than rape. And all because Captain Kirk asked him to." Her expression hardened. "The captain is just as bad. He took for granted that Spock would do this terrible thing for him, and he thinks that because it was in the line of duty, it was perfectly justified. Sure, Spock is good at fooling people, but the captain should be able to see that Spock is having trouble. Obviously he just doesn't want to look too closely. That would force him to admit that he was party to something as repugnant as rape, and he doesn't want to do that. The two of them go on like nothing ever happened, and I can hardly stand it."

McCoy inhaled deeply, considering his next words.

"Nyota, please take this in the spirit in which it's intended. I know that what Spock did goes against everything he's ever believed in, but we were desperate. All of us. There was no good solution. Yes, Jim probably shouldn't have asked it of him, but Spock made his decision and what's done is done. Do you think, maybe, that you're only compounding his problems with your disapproval?"

"Are you saying that this is my fault?"

"No, no. Not at all." He studied her for a moment, remembering the look of shocked disbelief on her features that fateful day on the bridge. "It's just that, well, Nyota, you have a big heart. I've seen you forgive other people for their errors a thousand times. Heaven knows I've given you plenty of opportunities to find fault with me, and you never have. But it seems to me that you hold Spock to incredibly high standards, and when he does something that demonstrates imperfection, you can't accept it."

"I can't believe you're saying this, Doctor. I, of all people, know he's not perfect. I don't hold him to any higher standards than he holds himself."

"Exactly. He hasn't met your standards, and he hasn't met his own. Poor guy. No wonder he's a mess."

She shook her head. "Are you saying that I should just pat him on the shoulder and say 'There, there, sorry you messed up but it's okay'?"

"No, but I guess what I'm saying is that maybe you should just try to understand."

"I've tried, Doctor. Believe me, I've tried."

"Then as a friend, I'm telling you to try harder." He could see an objection forming in her eyes, so he spoke hastily before she could voice it. "And another thing. You might also want to consider that you're only going to cause resentment if you try to force him to accept that Jim did something wrong. Believe me, I've been there. They have to work these things out in their own way and in their own time. When it comes to Jim, Spock sees only what he wants to see."

"I won't argue with that." She was silent for a long moment. "Doctor, I want Spock to get past this more than anyone. I can't lie to him, though, and tell him that it's all just fine with me. I was horrified by what he did-I still am-but I'd be willing to work through it with him if he'd only meet me halfway. I've even asked him to explain it to me. Heavens, I've begged him to explain it to me. I want to understand. But he won't try.

"I know how close-mouthed that damned Vulcan can be when he sets his mind to it." He turned his glass in his hands. "I know I've probably said too much as it is, but are you willing to hear one more little piece of advice?"

She softened. "Of course, Doctor."

"Just never forget how much he cares about you."

Drawing her eyebrows together, she sighed heavily and stared at her wine. "I won't, but sometimes that's not enough."

"True. But sometimes that's a starting point."

She nodded but didn't look up, and McCoy felt his spirits plummet. He hadn't gotten through to her. Yes, he knew how easy it was to get so buried in your worries that everything became muddled, so swamped by trouble that no matter how hard you tried nothing was clear anymore. He'd really hoped, though, that she would hear what he had to say. Maybe it would sink in later, after she'd had time to think about it.

Because if not, God help them. Spock and Uhura were on a path that could only lead to unhappiness, and once you got too far down that path, it was next to impossible to find your way back.

End chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

The Most Forgiven, chapter 3

Spock carefully turned his head on the pillow and watched Nyota. She appeared so peaceful and unworried when she slept; it was unfortunate that this calm eluded her when awake. She had been at Headquarters for exactly six weeks now and had steadily worked longer and longer days as time progressed. He knew that this was not an accident. It seemed that recently she was more comfortable at work than at home.

He looked at the chronometer on the bedside table. Of course, he already knew what he would see, but for some reason he had taken to staring at its glowing red display each night. He could predict precisely when the number would change.

There. 0122 hours. He did not wish to see it change to 0123.

He slid from beneath the covers and padded silently across the floor. A storm was brewing over the bay, so perhaps he would sit on the sofa and watch the light show. Quirking an eyebrow at his usage of Nyota's term for lightning, he could not deny that it was a very apt description. The rare storm that glowered in the distance was quite spectacular indeed.

He moved her book out of the way and settled himself on the sofa. The apartment was very dark and still, and he could hear the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. It was far away, however, so perhaps he could listen to something more interesting while he waited.

"Computer. Play Mozart's 'Requiem.' Volume at level one."

Resting his head against the cushions on the back of the sofa as the first notes eased into the room, he allowed his mind to wander. This afternoon, Professor McMillan had contacted him again and pressured him for an answer, but he had not been able to commit. While her work was brilliant, her methods were rather unorthodox. It was possible that he and she would eventually clash over procedures. Of course, he, himself, was not opposed to employing a creative solution should one present itself, but consistent use of such an unscientific approach would eventually undermine the credibility of one's results. He would be better off refusing her offer. Perhaps he would call her tomorrow and-

"Spock?"

He looked up to see Nyota walk from the bedroom, her pale nightgown iridescent in the flickering light.

"Forgive me, Nyota. Did I wake you?"

"Oh, no. I just happened to open my eyes and notice that you were gone. Is everything all right?"

"Yes. I merely wished to watch the storm."

"A storm?" She turned toward the window. "Can I sit with you for a little while?"

"Of course."

He moved over so that she would have room, and she found a place beside him. Her eyes glistened in the low illumination, and a moment later she smiled and gestured toward the speakers.

"Mozart."

"Yes."

They sat quietly as the light flashed in the distance and the music floated through the room. He was very aware of her nearness. She had shown no physical affection toward him for a long time-not since they were on the Enterprise-but tonight, she scooted in his direction just close enough that their upper arms touched. Could it be that she had finally come to terms with what happened? After all, he had only done what was necessary. Valeris had possessed the information they needed. He'd had no choice but to-

He stiffened minutely against her arm, forcing his thoughts away from that path. Evidently she did not notice, for she leaned her head against the cushions near his shoulder and began speaking in a soft voice.

"Do you remember that storm on the night we first made love? It started just like this, lighting up the sky behind the clouds way off in the distance."

"I remember it well. It grew quite ferocious before the night was through."

She chuckled. "Before we were through, you mean. That little house was practically rocking on its foundation, and I wasn't sure which was responsible, you or the storm."

He allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up. "After a certain point, I cannot say that I noticed anything but you."

She shifted so that she could see his face. Her eyes very large, she murmured, "What a nice thing to say, Spock."

The thunder rumbled loud enough to be heard over the music, and suddenly it seemed very right that he lean forward and press his lips to hers. She did not resist, yielding softly beneath him, and when he ran his fingers up the side of her neck, he heard her moan very quietly. She slid her hands up his chest to caress his shoulders, and he felt desire stir within him, something that had been absent for much too long.

His fingertips were very close to her meld points, and it was an easy matter to shift them so they rested against her cheek. She leaned subtly in his direction, encouraging him, and-

Without warning, the image of Valeris, with his fingers pressed harshly into her flesh, leapt into his mind. His eyes flew open, and his gasp was discernible above the music and the thunder. Nyota tensed, startled by his abrupt reaction, and as he stared into her eyes he saw different eyes, eyes filled with terror instead of tenderness.

He pulled away, but she grasped his wrist before he could rise.

"Spock? What is it?" Her fingers tightened. "What is it?"

"I cannot." He tried to wrest back his composure. "I am sorry. Forgive me for leading you to believe that I wished-"

"We were finally connecting," she cried. "It's been so long. Please don't do this to me. Don't run away from me."

"Not now." He twisted his arm free. "I do not want to do this now."

"Then at least talk to me. I can't bear it any longer. You've been a stranger, and it scares me to death. Talk to me! Tell me, what are you thinking right now? What's on your mind when you're awake in the middle of the night, or when you return from yet another fruitless interview?"

"Nothing." He could not prevent harshness from coloring his tone as he rose from the sofa and walked away. "Absolutely nothing."

Dogging his heels, she said, "It's not nothing! It's because of what happened with Valeris. We have to talk about this! You've pretended that you're fine with what you did ever since it happened, but I can see that you're not. You were so hell-bent on... whatever it was you were feeling-anger, guilt, vengeance, and Lord knows what else—that you pushed away everything that ever mattered to you, your friends, the mission, your own principles... Even me! You did it without a thought for how I'd feel about it! And living with the knowledge that you did something so awful is killing you. I know-"

He turned to face her. "There is nothing to discuss. I did what was necessary. Why can you not see that? I am not a monster, or a... rapist. It was not a personal affront to you. The peace treaty was in extreme jeopardy, as were we all. What would have happened if I had not retrieved the information?"

"How can you describe it that way? You didn't retrieve that information from a databank, you ripped it from a confused, unstable, and terrified girl. You let yourself be swept away in a murderous, vengeful tide, and when the moment came, you forced yourself on her. How can you deny that?"

"That I used force? I do not deny it. If she had cooperated-"

"So now it's _her_ fault? You're as bad as the captain." Her voice grew venomous. "He thinks that it was perfectly acceptable because it was in the line of duty. Well, it wasn't acceptable! He shouldn't have asked it of you. Everything that man has ever asked, you've done, and he just takes it for granted that you'll always be right there at his beck and call."

Spock drew himself up. "Do not bring Jim into this. This is between you and me."

"Fine! Then why do _you_ do whatever he asks? What he had you do wasn't right, and you should have just told him no! It's that simple. You should have told him no. No, you would not rape that girl."

Feeling his control begin to erode, he exclaimed, "Nyota, it was not rape! I am not a rapist! I do not know how many more times I can tell you this. We had to do it."

"That didn't make it right!"

"That made it necessary."

She swallowed, anger evident in her eyes as she glared at him. Neither of them backed away, and neither of them spoke for a long moment. Finally, her shoulders drooped. "I can't deal with this, Spock. You're impossible to live with, and even though your words say that you're fine with what you did, everything else about you says that you're not. I don't know what else to do. I'm going back to bed. You can join me, or you can sit by yourself in the dark all night."

She turned without another word and walked slowly to the bedroom, and he stood in the middle of the room and listened to the rustle of the covers when she situated herself in their bed. Unable to move, unable to react, he stared at the bedroom door until everything grew completely silent again except for the rumble of thunder. Even the music had stopped.

Finally, he seated himself on the sofa and stared out the window.

"Computer. Play Mozart's 'Requiem.' Volume at level one."

...

Uhura paused outside the door to their apartment and closed her eyes. This was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do, but she couldn't back out now. She'd made her decision. Everything was in place and ready to go, and all that was left was to tell Spock what she had done. How would he take it? Would he understand that she'd had no choice? She'd thought that things were better between them, but obviously she'd just been fooling herself. They'd reached the point where something had to give. Something, somehow. Someone.

She took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

He was sitting at the desk, as she'd known he would be. In the two weeks since their argument, he'd stopped even trying to look for a job. Granted, he spent hours and hours at the computer, composing letters and studying job descriptions at institutions all over the world, but nothing ever suited him. He might be able to fool himself that his level of activity equaled trying, but he couldn't fool her.

She put her satchel in the closet and took off her jacket. When she turned in his direction, she saw that he wasn't working. Instead, he sat with his hands folded on the desk, watching her.

Her heart sank. He knew. Maybe he didn't know the details, but he knew that she had done something drastic.

"You have something to tell me," he said in a flat voice.

She bit her lip, sliding into a chair near their desk. "The Lexington is temporarily without a first officer. Starfleet Command offered me the position, and I told them yes."

"I see. The Lexington. How ironic."

"It's only temporary, Spock. This opening came up, and I decided that maybe it would do us some good. We need a breather. That's all. Just some time apart to get our heads together."

He unclasped his hands and picked up a stylus. Idly turning it in his fingers, he said, "Often these so-called 'temporary' assignments are not temporary."

"This one is."

"So they tell you."

"It's for three months, and I've been promised that I'll get my position at Headquarters back when I return."

"I see. Then your decision is made."

"Yes. I ship out in two days. Please understand, Spock. It's a terrific opportunity, and it will be so good for my career."

"Yes. I know." He carefully placed the stylus back on the desk. "Congratulations, Nyota. Your tenure as first officer of the Enterprise was much too short, and I am pleased that they have seen fit to recognize you in this manner."

Moved by his unexpected acceptance, she smiled shakily. "Thank you, Spock. That really means a lot to me."

"If you ship out in two days, you have much to do before then. You had best start putting your affairs in order."

She nodded, then reached impulsively across the desk and grasped his hand. He briefly returned the pressure, but soon pulled away and turned to the computer. He didn't look back again.

As she rose to begin sorting through her belongings, she reminded herself that she should pack only the bare minimum needed for a three-month assignment.

She'd be back after that.

She wasn't walking away forever.

Was she?

...

Spock stood in the main transporter room at Terra Station and watched Nyota give the technician her orders. The young man nodded respectfully and gestured toward the transporter pad.

Instead of stepping up immediately, she glanced in Spock's direction, and he knew that she was uncertain how to say goodbye. An outward display of affection would not be appropriate in this forum, so he nodded formally without encouraging her to approach.

"Farewell, Nyota. Contact me when you are settled on the Lexington."

She smiled, and while he detected an element of sadness and regret through their bond, her feelings were not at all evident on her face. He approved her control. This was a difficult parting, and he took great care to ensure that his own uneasiness was not evident. The transporter technician was not quite so successful at hiding his disappointment-no doubt he was curious to witness such a parting—but Nyota's composure was worthy of a Vulcan.

"I will, Spock. Talk to you soon."

With that, she was gone.

He frowned slightly, remembering the last time he had seen her off like this. She had been leaving for the Lexington then, too, and it had begun the slow dissolution of their relationship. Fortunately they had eventually understood that they wished to be together, but it was not an easy conclusion to reach.

And they did not have... other factors operating against them.

Suddenly aware again of the curious transporter technician, he nodded politely and left.

End chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

The Most Forgiven, chapter 4

Uhura reached into her duffel for the last few items and pulled out her favorite robe, her warm slippers, and a framed holo. She smiled sadly, gathering the familiar softness of the robe close to her chest. These were her comfort things, although she wasn't sure they'd bring much comfort this evening. Her return to the Lexington was much too bittersweet.

She put the robe and slippers in the closet, then looked around the room for a place to put the holo. One of the first things she'd done upon arrival was request a small bundle of flowers, and now they sat cheerfully on top of her dresser. It had been an expensive use of her synthesizer credits, but who said you had to eat everything you synthesized? She'd needed the pick-me-up, and she didn't regret it a bit. Deciding that she'd enjoy looking at the flowers and the holo together, she moved the vase to the side and placed the holo next to it, and then rested her forearms on the high dresser.

She loved this holo. It had been taken on a blustery day at the coast about two years ago, when Dr. McCoy had talked her and Spock into joining him on an outing with his grandchildren. Bundled up in jackets, she and Spock had walked out on the pier to look at the waves, with their hands in their pockets and their bodies close in an attempt to stay warm. Dr. McCoy, up on the beach, had called out her name, and when she and Spock had looked back over their shoulders, he had transferred his holocam from the kids to them. Spock always looked so stiff in holos, but Dr. McCoy had caught him in an unguarded moment, the color high in his face and his hair mussed by the wind. She smiled, remembering how it baffled Spock that she'd chosen this holo to carry wherever she went rather than some other, more formal shot.

That had been a happy day. It seemed like another lifetime.

...

McCoy stepped from the lift and started down the hall of the modern apartment building. When he had last called Uhura a few weeks ago she'd sounded a little more upbeat, so he'd resolved then and there that he would stop meddling. And at first it had actually been easy to stick with his resolution. Lennie'd been selected to the all-region team, and what with their trip to the Mars Invitational and all, he'd been busy. But his patience could only last so long. He had to find out how his friends were doing.

Good thing he just happened to be in the neighborhood.

He stopped and reached for the signal, and a moment later the door slid open to reveal Spock. McCoy frowned, and any thought of what he'd intended to say flew from his head. Spock's normally craggy face was even craggier, and he had dark shadows under his eyes. He'd obviously lost weight, too, and the severe angles of his brow and cheekbones were exaggerated. This couldn't be good.

Spock nodded politely. "Greetings, Dr. McCoy. Please enter."

"Uh, hi, Spock. I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I'd drop by. How are you doing?"

"Quite well, thank you. And you?"

McCoy squinted, trying to figure out if Spock was more aloof than usual or just his regular taciturn self. "Oh, I'm fine."

He waited for Spock to offer him something to drink or to invite him to sit down, but nothing happened. Finally, he decided to drop all pretense of this being merely a social call.

"Spock, I don't like the way you look. You've lost weight, and I'd venture to say that you're not sleeping. What's going on?"

Spock drew himself up, and McCoy cursed silently at that familiar old expression of avoidance. He knew what Spock was going to say before he even said it.

"I am quite well, Doctor."

"Dammit, Spock. You aren't well. I can see it. Where's Uhura? I want to talk to her."

Spock's stony expression faltered for just an instant, but it was enough.

McCoy felt his heart rate accelerate. "Where is she?"

His face unreadable once more, Spock said, "She is on board the Lexington."

"What?"

"She is on board the Lexington, Doctor. She is their temporary first officer."

McCoy looked down, aware that his mouth was hanging open but unable to disguise the fact that he was utterly floored. Finally, he looked back up and whispered, "How long has she been gone?"

"She left three weeks and five days ago."

McCoy frowned, counting the weeks. Had it really been that long since he'd talked to her? She'd sounded so upbeat, but she must have left right after that. What could have happened?

"Is... Is she coming back?"

"It is a three-month assignment."

"But is she coming back?"

"She has been assured that her position at Headquarters will be left open for her return."

McCoy turned away. "I'm sorry, Spock."

"There is nothing about which to be sorry, Doctor. This is an advancement for her career. You should be pleased."

"Is this what she wanted?"

"She is honored that they chose her for the position."

"What about you?"

"I believe that she was due the recognition. If that is all, Doctor, I have work I must do."

McCoy crossed his arms, remembering his original concern. "If I had my medikit with me, I'd give you a physical right here and now. I'm going to allow you twenty-four hours to make an appointment for a check-up, and if you don't, I'm going to be right back. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Doctor. And... thank you for your concern."

McCoy nodded grudgingly. "Well. All right, then. You're welcome. I guess I'll be going now. Talk to you soon."

He allowed Spock to escort him to the door and soon found himself alone in the hallway again. As he started toward the lift, he realized that Spock had avoided answering every one of his questions. Damn, but that Vulcan was good. By agreeing to see a doctor-and actually expressing gratitude-he'd managed to completely deflect attention from what McCoy suspected was the real problem. Was Uhura's absence truly just temporary? Or was something more going on?

Well, McCoy would concede this round. But the next one wouldn't be so easy.

...

"Jim, there it goes again."

"Ignore it."

"But it must be something really important. This is the fifth time in less than ten minutes. Whoever it is obviously doesn't want to leave a message."

He tilted his head expectantly while he waited for his computer to grow silent again. "There. It stopped. See? It's not an emergency, or whoever it is would have put an urgent signal on it."

Antonia gazed across the table, her dark eyes accentuated by the candlelight. "I suppose I should be flattered that you'd disregard-"

The computer signaled again, and this time the noise was accompanied by the shrill tone that indicated an urgent override.

Kirk snorted in exasperation and set his wine glass beside his plate.

"Excuse me."

She smiled and nodded, so he pushed himself away from the table and stalked into the other room. He knew that this couldn't be a real emergency. If Starfleet was calling, they would have used the override from the start. If it was his nephew Peter, he would have recorded a message. If it was Spock, he wouldn't be so impatient. That left only...

Throwing himself down in front of the computer, he said, "Computer. Receive message."

The screen brightened to show McCoy's face.

"Jim! I'm so glad I caught you."

"Hi, Bones. You know, I'm kind of busy."

"Oh. Sorry. Anyway-"

"This really isn't a good time. Can it wait?"

"No, it can't. Whatever you're doing isn't as important-"

"For heaven's sake, Bones. Do I have to spell it out for you? Antonia is here."

"Good. Glad to hear she finally fell for your charms. Now, shut up and listen to me. I just went by to see Spock, and do you know what I found? Uhura is gone. She's gone away to the Lexington."

Kirk had inhaled in preparation for interrupting again, but instead froze, then exhaled slowly.

"So she took a new assignment," he said. "She's a Starfleet officer. It happens."

"No, Jim. You don't understand. I tried to tell you-several times-that things haven't been right between them, but you've been too thickheaded and self-involved to hear me. Well, it's come to this." McCoy's voice dropped a level. "I think she left him."

Kirk blinked. "No."

"Have you talked to him recently? To her?"

"I called him last week. He seemed to be fine. We didn't even talk about Uhura. He didn't say a word about a new assignment."

Unease stirred in the back of his mind as he remembered that conversation. They'd only talked about the most superficial things, and he'd actually been relieved that Uhura wasn't the one to answer his call. It was obvious that she was still mad, and he'd thought she was just avoiding him. It hadn't occurred to him that she might be gone.

"So you didn't notice how thin he is? That he hasn't been sleeping? That he's living alone?" McCoy scowled. "Jim, I happen to know that she's very unhappy about that business with Valeris, that she holds you partly responsible because you're the one who told him to do it, and that Spock's in denial over the entire thing."

"She shouldn't have dragged you into it."

"She didn't want to tell me anything, but I twisted her arm. She needed someone to talk to. She's been so miserably unhappy, and if you'd been paying attention, you would have known that. And her unhappiness is directly related to the problems Spock is having. How could you miss it?"

"Bones, I think you're all wrong. Spock knows that he only did what he had to do. If she has trouble accepting that, it's her problem."

Shaking his head incredulously, McCoy said, "No, Jim, _you're_ all wrong. It's Spock's problem, too. He's not fine with what he did. She tried to tell me that, and I couldn't see it at first either. But at least I'm looking at him with my eyes open now. You... I think you're afraid to look too closely. You're afraid you might discover that you did ask too much of him."

They were both silent while Kirk considered McCoy's words. Could he have misjudged the situation between his friends so completely? Finally, he asked, "Do you really think she left him?"

"He wouldn't confirm it, but yes, I think she did."

Kirk closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "The maiden voyage of the Enterprise B is Monday, and they're trying to round up some of the old bridge crew for the christening. Spock has already turned them down, but I'll call him tomorrow and try to talk him into it. I'll see if I can figure out what's going on then."

"Thank you, Jim. I knew you'd come through for him. Keep in touch. Let me know how it goes."

"I will. Kirk out."

The screen faded, and Kirk leaned back in his chair. Spock and Uhura were one of the most well suited couples he'd ever known. Sure, they had their disagreements, but it was never anything major. Could it be that things really had deteriorated between them to the point that Uhura had packed her bags and left? It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. He'd have a long talk with Spock, and surely he'd discover that they were simply coping with the typical challenges of a two-career couple. Because if not...

As he started back toward the other room, he realized that the evening didn't seem quite as magical as it had only moments before.

End chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

The Most Forgiven, chapter 5

Kneeling by his firepot, Spock brought himself from a light trance to realize that his computer was signaling an incoming call. He walked to the other room and seated himself at the desk.

"Computer, accept call." He waited until the screen revealed that his caller was Captain Kirk. "Greetings, Jim."

"Hi, Spock. How are you doing?"

"I am well. And you?"

Jim grinned. "Doing great. You should see how the ranch is shaping up. I went to an auction last week and bought two brood mares and a yearling, and I think that they're going to be great additions to my stable. Antonia... I told you about her, didn't I?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. He and Jim had not spoken a great deal in the months since their retirement, but when they had, they had invariably discussed his burgeoning relationship with Antonia.

"Yes. You have mentioned her."

"Well, Antonia thinks that I ought to just forget about cattle and concentrate on horses. I'm seriously considering it."

"I believe that it bears close consideration. You display a great deal more enthusiasm for your horses than your other livestock, and you do seem to have an aptitude for raising and training them."

"That's what Antonia says." He paused, then asked, "So, how's Uhura?"

Spock tilted his head, detecting a sudden stilted quality in Jim's voice. It would appear that the captain had spoken with Dr. McCoy. Taking care to keep his own voice even, he said, "She is doing very well. Perhaps you know that she accepted a temporary assignment on board the Lexington."

"Uh, yes. I spoke with Bones earlier, and he mentioned it."

"Then you also know that she is their first officer. It is quite a boost for her career."

"I'm sure it is. She deserved it."

"My thoughts exactly."

Jim hesitated again. Spock had already surmised that Jim was working his way up to something, and he assumed that it was related to McCoy's concerns. He dismissed a twinge of irritation at McCoy's intrusiveness as he waited for Jim to speak.

Finally, Jim said, "I'm pretty excited about the maiden voyage of the Enterprise B tomorrow."

Spock nodded uncertainly, wondering why Jim would bring this up. "It is quite a momentous occasion."

"Did you know that Sulu's daughter Demora is the navigator? Hard to believe she's old enough."

"She just graduated from the Academy. That is generally the time at which a person receives their first assignment."

Jim chuckled. "I mean that it seems like just yesterday she was a bright-eyed girl asking too many questions."

"Ah. Yes. I understand."

"Anyway, I was told that you'd refused the invitation. I'm hoping that maybe you'll reconsider."

Spock shook his head. "I am not interested in attending."

"But why not? Just think. The two of us, back on the Enterprise. It'll be great."

"I would prefer not to go, Jim. It will be a disorganized media frenzy."

"Sure, there will be a few members of the press there, but it won't be so bad. C'mon. Let's go together."

The small twinge of irritation returned, directed at the captain this time instead of McCoy. Spock drew a deep breath. Why was Jim being so insistent? He shook his head more firmly this time.

"I have heard that Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov plan to attend," he said. "You will not be alone."

"Being alone doesn't bother me. It's just that I'd like you to go. It'll be like old times. Will you do it for me?"

The irritation grew from a mere twinge to a larger ripple. "I have already told them that I will not be there."

"It's not too late for you to change your mind." Jim held out his hands. "Spock, I really want you to do this. I've hardly even spoken to you in months."

"No, Jim."

"This will give us a good chance to catch up with each other."

"Perhaps some other time."

"C'mon. Do it for me," said Jim.

Suddenly, the ripple of irritation flared into something bigger, much bigger, and Spock heard himself speaking before he had even considered what he intended to say.

"No!" He sat straighter. "Do you not understand? I said no. No, I do not wish to go, no, I will not attend the christening, no, I will not do this for you. No!"

Jim frowned, obviously surprised by Spock's response. "What's the matter with you? I'm not asking much."

"You are not asking much? It is always 'not much,' Jim." Spock knew that he should cease talking, but it was too late. He could not help himself as memories began crowding into his mind, memories of events that he had not given a second thought for years. "Was it 'not much' when you asked me to steal tools after we went through the Guardian? Was it 'not much' when you asked me to use Vulcan mental techniques against the Kelvans? Against the guard on Eminiar Seven?"

Jim's manner grew hard. "We had to do those things."

Raising his voice a notch, Spock demanded, "What about the time you asked me to seduce the Romulan Commander? Was that something else 'we' had to do?"

Jim snorted. "You didn't seem to mind too damn much at the time."

Spock leaned forward. "Do you think that I also 'did not mind' tracking down the wounded Mother Horta with the intent of killing her? She was a sentient creature, the last of her species. Do you remember? You asked me to do that, too."

"Forget it!" Jim shouted. "Forget that I asked. I'll go to the damned christening by myself! And I'll be happy to do it!"

"Good!" Spock replied loudly.

"Fine! Kirk out."

Jim reached forward with an angry gesture, and the next instant his image faded to black. Breathing heavily, Spock continued to stare at the dark screen. From where had his anger come? He had never known before that those events bothered him, yet they did. Very much so. He could still hear Jim's voice echoing in his ears...

_Do it for me._

Not this time.

As his breathing slowed, he realized that his hands were clenched in fists. He deliberately relaxed his fingers, then rose and stalked back to his room. It was too late to meditate. He would go to bed.

...

Kirk sat in front of his computer, his mouth hanging open, but after a moment he pressed his lips tightly together and turned away.

Going on the maiden voyage of the new Enterprise was no big deal, so what the hell had that been about? And who the hell did Spock think he was, bringing up all those old incidents? Spock had never even insinuated that he'd had a problem performing his duty when Kirk asked it of him, so why did he have such a problem now?

He shook his head. Coming to his feet, he strode to the front door and snatched his coat from the peg. In the morning he'd regret staying up late, but all he wanted to do right now was walk in the cool night air.

...

Monday morning.

It had been a long night, but Kirk saw that the windows were beginning to lighten with the dawn. Staring wearily into the fire that popped and crackled before him, he recrossed his legs on the footstool and felt himself sink further into the cushions of the overstuffed sofa. He'd come in from his walk last night and tumbled into bed, but his sleep had been restless, and he had finally given up around three in the morning. He'd been sitting here ever since, thinking about what had happened with Spock.

Of course, he'd long since come to the conclusion that he'd been a fool. He should have understood what was going on long ago. Uhura had tried to tell him, McCoy had tried to tell him, even Spock had tried to tell him, but he'd ignored them. He'd ignored all the signs, too, and now it had come to this. Spock's extreme reaction yesterday hadn't been about stealing tools from a safe on twentieth-century Earth or a persuasive mind-touch against an alien species. It hadn't even been about the christening of the Enterprise B. It had all been about what he'd done to Valeris.

What Kirk had asked him to do. Uhura had been right.

Coming to a sudden decision, he stood and walked over to his desk. It probably wasn't wise to approach Spock quite yet, but Uhura was another matter. She'd watched Spock struggle for months and had evidently finally decided that she couldn't watch anymore. She and Spock both could have used his presence in their lives, but he'd selfishly run off and found other, more convenient things to do. He'd really messed up big this time.

He turned on the computer.

"Computer. Record message for Commander Nyota Uhura."

No. This wasn't enough. What he had to say was too important for casual methods.

"Computer. Cancel request."

Opening a desk drawer, he rummaged around until he found a sheet of paper and a pen. He had precisely one hour to compose a letter that would tell her exactly what he wished to say. After that, he would have just enough time to hurriedly take a shower, put on his uniform, grab a bite, and run the letter by the communications office at Starfleet Command. He wouldn't worry about tidying up here until later.

After all, he was expected on the bridge of the Enterprise B at 0800 hours sharp.

End chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

The Most Forgiven, chapter 6

McCoy watched the lift doors open before him, then stared at the hallway ahead. The lift chirped to remind him to exit, but he didn't move. It was too hard, just too hard. How could he even put one foot in front of the other? How could he walk down that hall, press the signal, say the words...

"Sir? Is this your floor?"

Swallowing convulsively, he looked over to see a young woman standing just outside the lift doors, evidently waiting for him to move so that she could get on. He tried to smile.

"Sorry, ma'am."

She smiled back uncertainly, so he forced himself to walk from the lift. She brushed past him, the lift chimed, and he was alone.

Alone. God, he was alone.

He took a deep breath and moved slowly down the corridor. How could it be? When Scotty had called a little while ago, he hadn't believed it, just flatly refused to believe it. But Scotty had said that someone needed to tell Spock, so McCoy had put on his coat and left. As he had made his way here, the news had begun to sink in, and by the time he parked his flitter and walked toward this building, he knew. He knew.

He stopped and pressed the signal, and a moment later the door slid open.

"Doctor." Spock motioned him inside. "What brings you here at this time of day?"

McCoy looked into Spock's eyes. "Spock."

Spock frowned. "What is it? What is wrong?"

"Oh, God. Spock. I don't know how to tell you."

Spock grasped his elbow and steered him toward the sofa. "Sit down."

Sinking gratefully onto the cushions, McCoy rubbed his face, and turned toward Spock. He felt his lip begin to tremble, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Spock, it's Jim. Scotty called, and..." His voice faltered.

"Doctor." Spock's hand, still on McCoy's elbow, tightened. "What happened to Jim? What did Scott tell you?"

"Oh, Lord, he's gone. He's gone."

His eyes wide, Spock searched McCoy's face. "Who is gone? What do you mean?"

"I mean that he's gone. Jim is gone." McCoy heard the words begin to spill from his mouth. "There was an accident on the Enterprise B, well, not an accident exactly, but they received a distress call, and Jim saved them, he saved them all, but part of the ship was lost and he was in it, and now he's gone, he's gone."

"Doctor, you are not making any sense. Please slow down and tell me exactly what happened."

McCoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "The Enterprise received a distress call. Two ships were caught in an energy field, and they were falling apart. Captain Harriman didn't know what to do. Scotty said that he was useless. Completely useless."

He paused to shake his head, and Spock prompted, "Continue, Doctor."

"Scotty managed to beam a bunch of the people aboard just as their ships were destroyed. Before the Enterprise could get away, they got caught, too, and Jim went down to reconfigure the deflector. He thought that would help them escape or something. I don't know the details. Anyway, whatever he did worked. He saved the Enterprise, but as they were escaping an energy bolt hit the ship. When Scotty and Chekov went after Jim, they discovered that the section where he'd been working was destroyed."

Spock's hand slipped from McCoy's arm, and he was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said, "He is dead?"

"Yes," McCoy croaked.

His back ramrod straight, Spock slowly turned away and gazed out the window. His eyes were unfocused, though, and McCoy knew he wasn't seeing anything. Small noises from the apartment reached McCoy's ears-the hum of the environmental controls, a muffled pop in the vent-and they were almost deafening in the silence.

Spock dropped his eyes. "Where is his body now?"

"They don't know."

Spock turned back, and McCoy was shocked by the intensity of his gaze. "They do not have a body? Are they sure that-"

"Yes. They're sure. Scotty directed the investigation himself."

Sagging slightly, Spock asked, "Why was I not contacted sooner? I should have been there to assist in the search."

"Starfleet Command didn't tell anyone who didn't already know. They have a press conference scheduled for 1900 hours, and it's going to be big, really big. God, the maiden voyage of the new Enterprise, the new captain screws up, and the old captain is dead." McCoy inhaled shakily. "The only real captain the Enterprise will ever have is dead."

Spock put his elbow on the arm of the sofa and slowly rested his temple against his fingertips. "Has his nephew been contacted?"

"Admiral Westbrook is doing it, probably right now. He was an old friend of Jim's dad."

"I see. Are there any arrangements?"

"Not yet. Just the press conference."

"Where are they holding it?"

"Dillon Hall, over in the HQ annex. They want us to be there."

"Yes. I assumed they would." Spock came to his feet. "If you will allow me a moment to contact Nyota, I will accompany you."

"Take your time."

Not looking at McCoy, Spock nodded and walked over to the desk. McCoy watched him go, then covered his face with his hands. As if from a great distance, he heard Spock try unsuccessfully to reach Uhura, then begin recording a message. The words didn't entirely make sense, as if they were being filtered or distorted somehow, but one phrase leapt out at him...

"...Jim was killed today, Nyota..."

...and he knew vaguely that he made a choking noise, himself.

Spock terminated the message, and an instant later McCoy felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Spock watching him with a terrible, deep sadness in his eyes.

"Are you ready, Doctor?"

"Yes."

Together they left the apartment.

...

"Commander Uhura! Commander! What is it?"

Her hand on her forehead, Uhura looked up at the worried ensign but didn't answer. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She felt it.

She heard footsteps crunching in the small twigs and rocky soil of the alien forest, and the ensign stepped back to allow the ship's doctor close.

"What's wrong, Ensign?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know, Dr. Schmidt. She stumbled, and-"

Uhura held out her hands. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Ensign, you can go. I'll take care of this." Carolyn Schmidt waited as the ensign reluctantly walked away, then turned back to Uhura. Taking her gently by the elbow, she asked, "What is it?"

"It's Spock." Uhura felt as if her heart might pound out of her chest as she leaned against her friend. "Something really awful has happened."

The doctor's eyes widened. "Oh, heavens. Is he hurt? Ill?"

Uhura paused, trying to understand what she'd felt through their bond. It had been so broad, a wild mix of frightening emotions-dread, alarm, disbelief, guilt... and finally grief. Horrible, all-encompassing grief. Spock had quickly put a lid on it, but there had been no mistaking that something terrible had happened.

Shaking her head, she said, "No, I don't think anything happened to Spock, himself, but someone important to him. Oh, I hope it's not his mother. She's getting old, and her health hasn't been good recently. I need to go."

"Of course. You go. I'll take care of things here."

"Thanks, Carolyn."

Reaching for her communicator, she tried to keep her mind from racing. There were just too many possibilities. It wouldn't do any good to speculate. She needed to find out what had actually caused such an extreme reaction from him.

"Good luck," Carolyn whispered.

She looked back at Carolyn and saw her own fear reflected in her friend's eyes. She nodded, unable to speak, but finally took a deep breath and flipped open her communicator.

"Commander Uhura here. One to beam up."

She closed her eyes as the beam took her.

End chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

The Most Forgiven, chapter 7

Spock stopped before the door of the rustic home in the clearing and studied the lock. It appeared to be a typical home security system, nothing elaborate.

"Computer. Open door on the authority of Captain Spock."

Next to him, McCoy worriedly said, "Do you think it'll work?"

"I assume that Jim would have programmed emergency overrides into his lock. Ah. Just as expected."

The door slid open, and Spock stepped through to find himself in a large, informal living area. A blackened fireplace gaped against the far wall, and although it was very cold and lifeless at the moment, he could imagine how the sofa before it would beckon when the fireplace was lit. A rough plank table separated the living area from a modest kitchen, and he noted with surprise that the table still held the remnants of a meal. He could see a small office through an open door, and it also appeared to be awaiting the return of the home's occupant, with a robe thrown carelessly over the back of a chair and the computer blinking discreetly in sleep mode.

Spock turned to ascertain McCoy's opinion of Jim's home, and only then realized that McCoy had not entered with him. The doctor stood as if frozen, peering into the room from the front porch.

"Do you intend to join me?"

"I'm sorry, Spock, it's just... It's just that it seems so strange. Jim loved this place, and... and..." McCoy shook his head and stepped through the door, but instead of moving further into the room, he stopped to lift a hat from a peg by the door. "Did you see his muddy boots on the doorstep? He must have come in from the fields and left them. And over there is the holo of his son that he took everywhere next to an open book. And the dishes on the table. So many little things."

"This is not the time for sentimentality, Doctor. Assuming that Jim did not perform any chores on the morning of his death, no one has tended this ranch for two days. The animals require care."

"How can you be so cold, Spock? This is Jim's home, where he spent the last months of his life."

"In addition, Peter Kirk will be here this evening, and it would be best if he were not faced with housecleaning upon his arrival. Evidently Jim departed in a hurry on Monday. It was not like him to leave his living quarters in such an untidy state."

Spock turned to the table and picked up a plate. If Jim had not taken the time to clear his breakfast dishes, it stood to reason that there would be other tasks requiring attention around the house. Also, the bed should be remade with fresh linens. The animals must take top priority, however, so perhaps he should concentrate on the outdoor work before investigating the house. He placed the dishes in the kitchen sink and started toward the door.

"We will come back to this after we have cared for the animals."

Still turning the hat in his hands, McCoy said, "After we've cared for the animals? Do you have any idea how the hell to do that?"

"They require food and water, for a start. Please accompany me."

"Spock, dammit." McCoy closed his eyes briefly, and then placed the hat back on the peg. When he resumed speaking, there was an unsteadiness in his voice. "You've been going a mile a minute ever since you learned about Jim. Can't you slow down just for a moment? I can't keep up with you. We've just lost our best friend, and it's killing me."

"Doctor, I am not unsympathetic to your grief, but I have been 'going a mile a minute' because there is much to be done. Peter is on his way, but in the meantime someone needs to plan the memorial service. You intend to have a reception at your home afterward, but that will not simply happen by itself. In addition, someone needed to hear Jim's wishes toward the disposition of his estate, and someone needs to coordinate the loose ends that inevitably appear at a time like this. Someone must also ensure that his animals do not suffer due to neglect. Who else would see to these tasks if not us?"

"But can't you stop? Just for a moment?" McCoy picked up the old book. "These things are all we have left of Jim. I can't believe that you can be so damned efficient when we're surrounded by reminders of a full life cut short."

"They are only objects."

"But they're Jim's objects." McCoy pinned him with a glare. "I believe you're keeping yourself busy so you won't have time to think. If you rush around taking care of first one task and then another, you can pretend it doesn't hurt."

"Do you think that I am completely unmoved by Jim's death? There will be time to examine my... feelings about the matter later, but for now-"

"You can't put emotions on a schedule! You can't decide that today you'll be fine and tomorrow at 1500 hours you'll allow yourself to grieve. Hell, that's what you did with Uhura! You pushed off any acknowledgment of what you were feeling, and now it's too late. She's gone, and-"

"I am going outside. If you wish to remain here and wallow in your emotions, that is your choice. I choose to do what must be done."

He walked through the door without awaiting a response from McCoy. The doctor had been like this ever since delivering the news of Jim's death, one moment lucid and helpful, the next moment befuddled. One would think that he had never had to deal with loss before.

And why would he bring up Nyota? Her assignment to the Lexington bore no comparison to Jim's death, and Spock did not understand the reference. Granted, he and she had experienced a great deal of discord before she left, and he and Jim had exchanged cross words with each other just prior to Jim's death-

Enough.

He strode through the stable door and quickly assessed his surroundings. Five horses hung their heads over the stalls, watching him expectantly. Horses ate grass, oats, and hay, did they not? Spotting a bin, he opened it to find a large quantity of grain. Very good.

As he transferred grain from the bin to a bucket, he could not help but think of Nyota again. Where was she at the moment? She had received his message about Jim's death and left a message of her own stating that she would return to Earth as quickly as possible. The Lexington was far out in Sector Nine, however, and he did not think that she would arrive before tomorrow's memorial service. That was unfortunate, for she would be tremendously disappointed to miss it.

And... he did not wish to face it without her.

For all his words to McCoy, he did feel grief. He had never experienced this sensation before, but it seemed that a great, empty darkness loomed before him. And, oddly, he could not see beyond the darkness. He knew that life would continue as before, but the future was a void. He could envision the events of his life up to the memorial service, but after that, nothing. Blackness.

What would happen when Nyota returned? Would she shut him out as before? Despite the fact that she would be greatly affected by Jim's death, it would not change her opinion of what had happened with Valeris. He was only now beginning to understand the possible finality of her departure.

The blackness before him seemed to grow darker, if possible.

She had been so terribly displeased with him. Perhaps, though, when he explained to her that he _had_ finally told Jim no, just as she wished...

He had told Jim no, just as she wished.

And Jim had died alone, just as he had always said he would.

Would Nyota come home, share her grief with her friends, and return to the Lexington? Ironic that she would leave Spock alone again just as Spock had done to Jim. As the humans so often said, 'What goes around, comes around.' The phrase was almost nonsensical, but there was a painful truth concealed in the words.

He moved into a stall and emptied the oats into a container on the wall. Surprisingly, the horse did not hurry to its food, instead appearing more interested in gaining attention. Spock placed the bucket on the ground and ran his hand down the massive animal's muzzle. The horse was warm, and he had not expected to feel such a contrast between the bristly hair between its eyes and the velvety skin near its nostrils. He did not resist when the horse moved closer, thrusting its head against his hand and snuffling his clothing.

"I think she likes you."

He looked up to see an attractive, dark-headed woman watching him. Suddenly self-conscious, he picked up the bucket and left the stall.

"Greetings. I am Spock."

"I know. I'm Antonia."

"Of course. I grieve with thee."

"Thanks." She looked down briefly. "I'm sorry for your loss, too. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

He considered telling her that it would be illogical to doubt the truth of Jim's death, but instead he said, "Yes. It is difficult to accept."

"Here. Let me have the bucket. Jim usually added some vitamins to the feed. He didn't like to buy the grain that had already been enriched. Maybe you can give them fresh water."

He nodded, looking back into the stall to see an unobtrusive control next to the water dispenser. "Am I to assume that you have been caring for the animals?"

"Yes. When I heard the news yesterday..." Her voice faded, and she reached up to a shelf for a bottle while she cleared her throat. "When I heard the news, I knew that no one would think of the animals right away. Unfortunately, I couldn't get into the house, but I thought that I could at least do this much. Jim was terrible about remembering to water his plants. The poor things are probably drooping."

"I was able to gain access. Perhaps we can do that next."

"Good."

He moved to the next stall, and paused to watch as she efficiently mixed the vitamins with the feed. "I regret that you had to learn of the captain's death through such impersonal channels. While he had told us a great deal about you, we did not know your last name. We could not locate you."

"That's all right. I'm sure you tried your best." She met his eyes. "You know, Jim told me all about you, too. I'm glad to finally get to meet you."

"I would have preferred that we meet under more pleasant circumstances, but I am honored to meet you as well."

She smiled sadly. "I wish that Jim could have been here for this. I think he would have enjoyed it." She carried the bucket into the next stall. "Well, let's finish up here. I'm sure that the cattle are hungry, and I need to take a look at the youngest calf."

Nodding, Spock returned his attention to replenishing the water in each stall.

...

Uhura leaned her head against the padded seat, trying not to count each minute as it slowly crept away. Spock hadn't known anything about the funeral arrangements when he left his message, so she'd just caught the fastest shuttle she could find. She knew that she'd be cutting it close, but she had paid a huge price for this seat and she hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would make it.

The attendant came by with a drink padd. "Anything for you, ma'am?"

Shaking her head, she returned to her thoughts. How was Spock doing? She'd picked up momentary flashes of sadness from him, but they were always quickly suppressed as if he wasn't allowing himself to dwell on it. While it was typical for him to push away his feelings like that, she found that it made her uneasy this time. This was the biggest blow he'd ever suffered emotionally. Something had died in him with Valeris. Would this extinguish the last spark that flickered within him?

She closed her eyes, deciding that she should try again to get some sleep. She'd been on this shuttle for over fifteen hours and before that had spent another eight on a slower ship. She was exhausted. It was just too hard to close her eyes, though. When she closed her eyes images would leap to her mind.

_I have just received some unpleasant news._

Spock's words. His voice had been so bleak.

_Dr. McCoy informs me that Jim was killed today, Nyota, on the maiden voyage of the Enterprise B._

It had happened so quickly. These things always happened quickly, didn't they? One minute everything is fine, and the next minute your life changes forever.

_They answered a distress call and rescued a number of people from two ships that were caught in an unknown energy field. The Enterprise became trapped as well, but Captain Kirk devised a solution that freed them._

Had the captain known that he'd saved the Enterprise yet again?

_At the last moment, the ship was hit with an energy bolt, destroying the area where he worked._

Had he suffered? Had he understood what was happening?

_Neither Dr. McCoy nor I were there. We are still learning the details ourselves._

Suddenly she was distracted from her thoughts by a personal tri-vee across the aisle. Leaning over, she caught the man's attention and said, "Excuse me. Would you mind increasing the volume and picture on that? I'd like to watch, too."

"Of course."

He pushed a couple of buttons, and suddenly she was confronted by the smiling, dynamic image of the man she had followed for most of her adult life.

"... shown here in file footage, Captain James Kirk was well-known for his exploits as a Starfleet captain. In life his name was always tied to the mighty ship he commanded, and now it will be no different in death. We take you to Starfleet correspondent Mai Ling for a detailed account of what happened on the maiden voyage of the new Enterprise."

A gray-haired woman appeared on the screen, and Uhura covered her mouth as the reporter revealed the story one element at a time. Then, the image shifted to show a somber Admiral Howard standing behind the podium at Starfleet HQ. She recognized the setting-Dillon Hall. She'd lectured there just last year. Flanking him were Spock and Dr. McCoy, and she felt a burning in her eyes as she looked at them. Spock stood tall, his face expressionless and his hands clasped behind his back, but the doctor looked old, his posture stooped and his face ashen. This must be a replay of the press conference Spock had told her about.

The formal words didn't reveal anything new, so she focused her attention on Spock. Discreetly wiping a tear from her eye, she watched him endure the announcement, so handsome, so dignified-

The reporter's voice jolted her attention back to the news story.

"Also legendary was the loyalty Captain Kirk engendered among his senior crew, most notably his first officer of many years, Captain Spock of Vulcan. Captain Spock gave up his own command to serve with Captain Kirk..."

She watched with wide eyes as Spock stepped from their apartment building and was immediately surrounded by shouting reporters. He didn't lose his composure, but she could see that the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. He ducked his head, responding with brief, one-word answers, and moved quickly through the crowd until he was able to vanish into a waiting taxi. She frowned. How dare they! Were they hoping for a sensational, emotional reaction?

And then she saw Dr. McCoy standing in front of Starfleet Medical. His eyes watery, he talked about his friend, trying to speak coherently despite the chorus of questions. And there were Scotty, and Sulu, and Chekov, and... herself. Heavens, they'd even dredged up some footage from the time she'd accepted the Long Award for her research on subparticle communications. Spock was with her, and as she watched she saw herself grasp his elbow and laugh at a shared joke on their way out of the auditorium. She hadn't even known that the videographers caught that on film, and there it was for the entire universe to see.

The story ended with the time and date of the memorial service, tomorrow at 1500 hours. She looked down at her chronometer and calculated the time in San Francisco, and saw that she had another twelve hours to make her connections and find a way to Starfleet Headquarters. It was going to be close. Too close.

Resting her head against the back of the seat again, she willed the shuttle to go just a little bit faster.

End chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

The Most Forgiven, chapter 8

Tugging on his dress uniform, McCoy stood next to Spock while they waited for the service to begin. The hallway was actually very nice-elegant and spacious-and if he craned his neck, he could see into the next room with its rows of padded benches and an extravagant display of flowers at the front around a holo of Jim. It looked like there would be plenty of room for the big group of subdued, formally dressed people who had come to pay their last respects. Everything was perfectly organized, right down to the solemn lieutenant who greeted each mourner at the door.

Jim would have really hated this.

He turned to Spock. "I wonder how many people will come over to the house later."

Spock sighed heavily. "If I were you, I would limit the number of invitations I extended."

"Yes, that's probably wise. I'd really thought that it should just be Jim's closest friends, anyway. I want the mood to be light. Nothing like this. This is too funereal."

Spock raised an eyebrow at that statement but didn't comment, instead shifting his gaze toward the entry of Starfleet's Memorial Hall. McCoy looked that way too, and although he knew exactly who Spock was waiting for, he said, "I've never seen so many top brass. And they just keep coming in."

"Jim was well-respected."

They fell quiet, standing shoulder to shoulder while they watched the door. Finally McCoy said, "Do you know anything more about her flight?"

Evidently startled by his own transparency, Spock quickly faced McCoy. "Are you speaking of Commander Uhura?"

"Of course I'm speaking of Uhura. Was she able to do anything to speed up her trip?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"So you don't think she'll make it."

Spock shook his head slowly, and McCoy thought that he looked very tired. "No."

"That's too bad. I'm sorry, Spock."

"She will be very disappointed."

They grew silent again, and McCoy saw Spock's eyes gravitate back toward the front door. It really was too bad she wouldn't be here. Spock's constant activity over the last two days hadn't fooled anybody, and McCoy knew that it was just a type of denial. And when the need to stay busy passed, what would be left? Nothing but thoughts and memories. McCoy knew that all too well himself. He really wished that Uhura-

Suddenly, he saw from the corner of his eye that Spock had straightened. Following the direction of his friend's gaze, he smiled in relief when he saw what Spock was looking at.

Uhura.

Other than being a little bedraggled, you couldn't really tell that she'd just spent two days on a shuttle. She paused in the doorway, and McCoy was struck by her beauty. Odd how you tended not to notice physical traits in the people you knew well. She really was beautiful, though, sad but beautiful, and once she made eye contact with Spock she didn't look away.

McCoy held his breath as she approached. Looking from her to Spock, then back to her again, he realized that she was very close to tears. And he saw the first hint of grief cross Spock's face, too, as Spock watched her walk across the room in his direction.

She stopped in front of them, and Spock lifted his hand with two fingers extended. She delicately pressed her fingertips to his. Still neither of them spoke, and McCoy abruptly felt like he didn't belong.

He gripped her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. "We were afraid you wouldn't make it, Uhura. Good to see you."

"Thank you, Doctor."

McCoy nodded. "Talk to you in a bit. Save me a seat when you get inside."

She smiled gently. "We will."

Without looking back again, McCoy walked over to where Chapel and Sulu stood on the other side of the hallway.

...

Thinking that she could simply put her head down on the sink and fall asleep right here, Uhura rinsed the last bit of soap from her face and reached for a towel. What a day. When she had arrived today and seen how desperately Spock had wanted her to be there, she'd almost fallen apart. And then they had to sit through the beautiful, interminable memorial service with its eulogies and music, and she'd thought she wouldn't make it. The hardest part had been the get-together at Dr. McCoy's house afterward. They'd all reminisced and laughed and even cried a little, but she'd been almost a zombie by then. And of course witnessing their friends' emotional catharsis had been very difficult for Spock. He'd sat quietly and tolerated it, maybe even drawing some small measure of comfort from their company, but as soon as possible he and she had risen by unspoken agreement and excused themselves.

Putting the towel back on the rack, she dragged herself into the bedroom.

"Your turn..."

She fell quiet when she saw the blank expression on his face. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture slightly slouched and his eyes fixed on the empty space before him. His boots were lined up beside the bed, and his jacket was draped across his lap as if he had gotten this far but didn't know what to do next.

He stirred when she sat beside him.

"Are you all right?"

Meeting her gaze briefly, he pressed his lips together and looked down at the floor. "I always thought that I would know when he died," he said softly.

She opened her mouth as she searched his face, but she couldn't think of a response. After a moment he turned to her.

"We touched minds often enough that I assumed there might be a connection of sorts between us. I was utterly unaware that anything had happened, however. I did not perceive his death."

Finally finding her voice, she murmured, "Do you think it might be because he didn't perceive his death, himself? Maybe it happened so quickly that he never knew what happened."

He nodded. "That is possible."

She closed her eyes as she imagined the last moments of the captain's life. What would it be like to have death swoop down on you, taking you without even an instant's warning? Would it be any better to see your death ahead of you, to have so much warning you actually counted the seconds as they ticked away? Hardly aware that she was voicing her thoughts, she asked, "When you were in that radiation chamber, what was it like to know that you were going to die?"

He didn't answer at first, so she looked up at him. His eyes were very gentle, and she was surprised at the openness in his expression.

"It was peaceful." He paused as he remembered. "My task was not complex, so I allowed my mind to wander. I cast back over my memories, thinking of those rare moments when all facets of my life seemed to come together, recalling the people who had touched me throughout the years." He paused again. "I thought of you and wished you happiness."

She felt her eyes fill with tears. "I'm so lucky. I got you back. When I met Antonia earlier, that phrase kept running through my mind. I got you back, I got you back. She won't, though. When she said goodbye today she said goodbye forever, and oh God... Spock..."

Suddenly, the tears she'd managed to keep at bay for two days bubbled up, and she knew that this time she wouldn't be able to make them stop.

Her voice barely understandable, she said, "He's gone, he's really gone. He's been a force in our lives for years and years, but now he's gone. You had a second chance, you were given a second chance, but there won't be a second chance for him."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against his chest, and she was surprised to hear a thick, uneven quality in his voice when he spoke.

"Yes. I know. He is gone."

Curling her fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt, she buried her face against his chest. Although a voice in the back of her mind told her that she shouldn't break down like this, that she should try to regain control, the strength of his warm arms when he gathered her close only served to make it worse. She felt his shirt grow damp from her tears as she remembered so much-the captain's energy and enthusiasm, his crooked smile, her last angry conversation with him.

No doubt detecting her misery, Spock leaned his forehead against the top of her head and tightened his grip until it seemed that she could no longer fill her lungs. Somehow, though, she felt the tears begin to slow, and finally she was able to draw a deep breath and push herself away just enough to look at his face.

Dashing the tears from her cheeks, she said, "I missed you so much."

He closed his eyes tightly in a visible struggle for control, then said, "And I missed you. I do not want you to leave me, Nyota."

She had to fight to make herself heard. "I won't. I promise."

Reaching gently for her face, he wiped away the last of the tears, but instead of removing his hand, he shifted his fingers until they rested on her temple. He unflinchingly held her eyes, and slowly, gradually, she felt his mind brush against her own.

_Yes._

She wasn't sure whose thought that was, hers or his, but she leaned into his touch, needing this so badly she thought she would die without it. The contact was very basic-simple and fundamental, with no exploration, no revelations, no exchange of thoughts-but it was there, he was there, and she knew that she had never experienced such pure relief in her entire life.

Soon his lips replaced his fingers, and he kissed her temple, his touch so light that she shivered. It wasn't enough, though. She wanted to be close to him, to feel his solid, reassuring body next to hers. She wanted to connect with him in the most essential, rudimentary way she knew.

She cupped her hand against his cheek. "Take your clothes off."

He regarded her for a long moment, and she wondered if he would withdraw again, just like he had done when they were last together like this. Finally, though, he nodded and unhurriedly began removing the rest of his clothing. He was gaunt, even more gaunt than when she last saw him, but she didn't comment. Instead, she slipped out of her nightgown, and when they were both naked, he turned to her and allowed her to draw him down onto the bed on top of her.

She wrapped her arms and her legs around him, savoring the weight of his body on hers. He wasn't hard enough to enter her, but she didn't care. There was no hurry; he would be hard soon enough. For now all she wanted was this-skin against skin, a fast, light heartbeat so near to a slower, sturdier one. She turned her face up to his, and when he kissed her, she reached between them and stroked him, encouraging him without words, letting him know how much she desired this contact.

Gradually she felt him grow hard against her hand, so she spread her legs and guided him into her. He slid his long fingers between their bodies, but she shook her head and pushed him away. This wasn't about sexual gratification. This was about loving and being loved, consolation and reaffirmation.

Nodding his understanding, he transferred his hand to her face to allow her to share in his own pleasure. Just as before, he held their mental contact to something very elemental, but she felt his need. He desired this, too, but not for release. He desired her. Just her. Her presence, her comfort, and her acceptance.

He stared into her eyes as he moved within her, his rhythm strong and steady. She spread her fingers on his back, meeting him stroke for stroke, and it didn't take long for her to feel the tension escalating within him. He removed his hand from her face, resting it on the pillow above her head, and when his fingers began to tighten spasmodically against her scalp, she knew that he was very close.

She whispered, "Now, Spock."

Finally closing his eyes, he buried his face against her neck and shuddered, and she felt the tension explode within him. She held him tight, and her heart began to beat a little faster when she realized that tonight, somehow, a small hopefulness had sprouted in the midst of all their despair. They might not have talked about everything that had passed between them, and the hurt they'd inflicted on each other wouldn't be erased so easily, but tonight, at least, they had come together.

It was a start.

...

The next morning, Spock brought himself from the depths of slumber and opened his eyes. For the briefest moment he relaxed as if this morning were like any other, but he felt his ease vanish when the events of the last few days quickly crowded back into his mind.

Jim was gone. He was gone.

Nyota had voiced it well in her grief last night. The dynamic, unstoppable force that had influenced their lives for so many years had finally been stopped.

Turning to his side, he studied his wife. He and she had not reclothed themselves last night, and now she slept on her back with the covers barely covering her breasts. He settled his head onto the pillow, content to watch the rise and fall of the sheet with each breath and to observe the way her dark lashes fell against her cheek.

He had feared that he would never be allowed such an opportunity again.

Why had she returned? Was it primarily to mourn the death of a close friend? Was it pity, perhaps, or guilt that had prompted her to seek a physical expression of their relationship last night? While he thought that both of these possibilities factored into her return, he was confident that she had also done it merely because she wanted to. He found that concept highly gratifying.

When he had touched her mind last night, he had wanted to weave his thoughts tightly through hers, but he could not bring himself to do it. He was not certain if it was because he did not trust himself to resist the memory of what had happened with Valeris, or if he did not want to know the truth of what she still thought about him. In either case, his reluctance was nothing more than cowardice. However, if cowardice allowed him this much, then cowardice it would be. More than anything, he wished to preserve the fragile reconciliation that had drawn them together once more.

She stirred and opened her eyes. Smiling almost shyly, she murmured, "Good morning."

"Good morning. How do you feel today?"

She stretched, reaching toward the ceiling. "Pretty good, I think. Still tired but much better. How about you?"

"The same."

Rolling onto her side, she asked, "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Nothing definite, although I thought we should visit Dr. McCoy. He has taken this all very hard, and he might find solitude difficult. In addition, he consumed a great deal of alcohol last night. I am concerned about him."

"He's not alone. I heard Christine ask him which room was hers. She's staying for a day or two."

"Ah. That is good."

She scooted closer, so he rolled onto his back and indicated that she should put her head on his shoulder. When she complied, he could not resist inhaling the scent of her hair. There were so many things he had taken for granted.

Idly stroking her upper arm, he looked at the ceiling. "How soon must you return to the Lexington?"

She toyed with his chest hair as she so often used to do. "They gave me a two-week personal leave."

Even though she could not see him, he nodded. Neither of them spoke, each lost in his or her own thoughts until he broke the silence.

"I want to go home, Nyota. To Vulcan. It has been thirteen point four months since we last visited. Would you mind spending your leave there?"

She pushed herself up so she could see him. "That's a wonderful idea. I'd like that. Maybe I could even extend my leave a little."

"Will you try?"

"Yes. I'll try." She put her head back down on his chest. "How soon do you want to go?"

"It should not be difficult to find a flight at this time of the year. Perhaps we could go tomorrow."

"That would be great."

Tightening his arm around her, he began formulating his plans for their trip.

End chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9

The Most Forgiven, chapter 9

Spock stood in the shower and closed his eyes, the water streaming over his chest and the steam rising around him. As a youth he had invariably set this shower to sonics, but Nyota had long since taught him that there was no shame in appreciating the sensation of the water on his body. Sonics might be appropriate when one had a schedule to meet, but there was no need for efficiency today. He had an abundance of time.

Reaching for the soap, he pictured his wife as she slept soundly in their bed. She had always experienced difficulty acclimating herself to the Vulcan climate and clock, and this trip had been no exception. She tended to be awake when the rest of the household was asleep and to sleep long after everyone else rose. Eventually, if he had taken care to wake her at a specified time each morning, she would have adjusted, but she would have then encountered problems readapting to the Earth-normal schedule observed on the Lexington. So he allowed her to sleep each morning. It did not matter.

It was good to be here with her.

Twelve days had elapsed since her return from the Lexington, and it seemed that the two of them grew easier with one other with each passing moment. While they had still done nothing toward resolving their previous problems, they had nevertheless reached an equilibrium of sorts. Last night he had touched her thoughts again as he had done each night, and while he grew slightly bolder each time, he still limited their contact. A human might say that he did not wish to rock the boat. Their boat was rather unsteady, but it nevertheless continued to float.

Also, it was clear that neither of them wished to look too closely at the additional baggage they carried on their boat, or at the malignant creatures that might lurk in the water beneath. Perhaps in time the weight of the baggage might seem less cumbersome, and as long as the creatures did not rear their heads, they were of no concern.

Raising an eyebrow at his fanciful musings, he rinsed away the last of the soap, turned off the water, and dried himself. When he crept from the bathroom, he found an empty bed. Evidently she had awakened after all. He dressed quickly and headed toward the other end of the house.

"We were visiting my mother. I guess that it must have been about 2234, so he would have been four or five years old..."

Ah. His mother's voice, coming from the vicinity of the kitchen.

"...and I couldn't find him anywhere. I knew he was with Margaret, the little girl next door, but I didn't know what they were up to. Well, it turns out that they had been reading a book about China and decided..."

In his mind, he recited the end of the story in tandem with his mother.

"...that they should dig to China."

Even if he did not remember the incident, he would have known how this story ended. His mother never tired of repeating it. Of course, she never supplied all the details, such as the fact that he had told Margaret there were better ways to accomplish her goal. Preparing to defend himself as he neared the kitchen door, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Nyota was laughing.

Loud and carefree, her uninhibited laughter burst with the sheer joy of life. He had not heard this sound since their last voyage on board the Enterprise. He crossed his arms across his chest and listened, his head bowed.

Peals of laughter...

No, not peals. That would imply a bell-like sound, and her laugh was far too throaty, too earthy to remind one of bells. He had often tried to formulate adjectives to describe her laugh, but he always failed. The sound was far too unique. Even though he had not understood until this moment how long it had been since he had heard it, he realized now just how much he had missed it.

He found a seat in the den. Steepling his hands, he leaned his head against the back of the chair and waited for his mother's next story.

...

Sarek strode down the front walk toward the door. The sun loomed large on the horizon, and it occurred to him that this would be a good evening to sit in the garden with Amanda and appreciate the cooling of the breeze. Of course, it was not to be. He and his aide foresaw a long night of work ahead of them, and he had only enough time to gather his notes and return to the embassy.

The door slid open when he approached, and he entered his home. As he paused to remove his cloak, the delicate notes of a Vulcan lyre reached his ears. He nodded. He had not been greeted thus for many years, and he could not deny a sensation of satisfaction as he listened to the familiar sound of long ago. It seemed another era that he would enter the den to find his young son sitting in the corner, trying to master the day's lesson. Now, he would enter to find a grown man in that boy's place, with an accomplished and gracious woman by his side.

Truly, this must be one of life's rewards of which Amanda spoke so often.

He stepped into the den.

Amanda looked up from where she sat on the sofa. "Sarek! I didn't expect you home until late."

"We received a communique from the Bolian ambassador. The trade talks have unexpectedly moved forward. Tavik and I have much work to do before the morning. I am only home to pick up my materials."

She sighed. "I would have held supper for you if I'd known you would be here."

"It was not necessary. We dined while working."

Motioning to the seat beside her, she asked, "Can you sit with us, even if only for a moment?"

He nodded and moved to the sofa. Actually, he should not take the time for this, but he had heard something today that he knew would interest his son and daughter-in-law. He folded his hands on his lap and addressed Spock.

"Have you watched the news today?"

Stilling the strings, Spock shook his head. "No. We spent the afternoon in town, and I have not yet taken the time to do so."

Nyota lowered her book to her lap. "I haven't seen the news, either. Did something happen?"

"There has been an interesting development in the Starfleet conspiracy case. In exchange for reduced charges, Lieutenant Valeris has agreed to mental rehabilitation."

Amanda turned toward Sarek in disbelief. "Really? Isn't that just a polite term for a mindwipe? I've never known a Vulcan to agree to that."

"The news has created quite a stir. I confess that I was surprised to hear not only that she had agreed to it, but that the option was offered in the first place. Spock, you know her better than I. What is your opinion of the ethics of this matter?"

Glancing casually at his son and daughter-in-law in anticipation of a response, Sarek frowned. He had expected a lively discussion of the moral dilemmas involved in the situation, but instead Spock appeared stunned. In addition, Nyota sat as if frozen, her knuckles pale where she gripped the book she had been reading.

Finally Spock blinked and looked away. "I do not have all the facts, Father. The ethical implications seem obvious, but perhaps matters are not as they appear."

Sarek looked from Spock to Nyota, then back. "Please elaborate."

A small muscle worked in Spock's jaw. "Even though this choice might seem distasteful, it is possible that the alternative was much worse."

"I can see no alternative that would be more objectionable. What do you mean?"

"We cannot know." Spock's voice was firm. "When one is on the outside looking in, one cannot attempt to dictate ethics."

Nyota stiffened at that, and Sarek lifted his chin as he attempted to assess the dynamics of this situation. Of course, Valeris had betrayed them, so Spock and Nyota could be forgiven an emotional reaction. Neither Nyota's panic-stricken tension, however, nor Spock's stubborn defensiveness were the reactions he would have predicted. He quickly reviewed the incident as he knew it: Spock arranged the conference, Chancellor Gorkon was assassinated, and Kirk and McCoy were mistakenly incarcerated for the crime until Valeris chose to confess. He could see no reason for this response. Clearly, Spock was avoiding Nyota's gaze and Nyota was avoiding Spock's, but why?

His manner growing more heated, Spock said, "Perhaps it is necessary, even justified. The good of the many-"

Sarek held out his hands. "I cannot comprehend what could possibly justify this."

Suddenly, Nyota placed her book on the table with such force that Sarek felt Amanda jump at the noise.

An unnatural smile on her face, Nyota came to her feet. "You know, I think I'd like a little more of that fruit salad you made, Amanda. It was wonderful. Would anyone like for me to bring them some?"

She looked expectantly at Sarek and Amanda. When no one replied, she exclaimed, "All right, but you're definitely missing out."

She whirled and walked into the kitchen. Sarek turned to Spock in amazement, expecting his son to explain his wife's hasty departure or at the very least go after her. Instead, Spock gazed at the floor, his brow creased and his hands draped over the harp. Finally he also came to his feet, but he walked in the other direction.

"If you will excuse me, I believe that I will catch up on the day's events now."

Clearly bewildered, Amanda murmured, "Of course."

Sarek watched Spock leave the room, then turned to Amanda to see that her eyes were large.

"What do you think that was about?" she asked.

"I cannot fathom it, my wife."

They sat in silence for a long moment, but finally he rose to retrieve his materials. It was time to return to the Embassy.

End chapter 9


	10. Chapter 10

The Most Forgiven, chapter 10

Snaking a hand out from under the covers to rub her nose, Uhura opened one eye just wide enough to look at the window. Just as she thought, not quite dawn yet. What an irritation. They had two more days on Vulcan, and she probably wouldn't get used to the time change until the very morning they left. Oh well. At least it gave her a chance to relax, and maybe she'd go back to sleep. It usually turned out that Spock woke up about the time she dozed off again, but he'd been good about letting her stay in bed as long as she wanted. Comfortably drowsy, she rolled over to look at him.

Oh, no. Not again.

The bed beside her was empty. She sat up to see if maybe he'd just gone into the bathroom, but she wasn't surprised to see that the door stood open and the room was empty. Bowing her head, she rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face. Everything had been going so well! As far as she knew, he had stopped his nocturnal wanderings when they began to patch things up, but then Sarek had mentioned Valeris and now he was gone. Damn. She'd seen how the news had perturbed him yesterday, but she'd hoped that if they ignored it, it would go away. Obviously she had been wrong.

Moving to the edge of the bed, she wiggled her feet until she found her slippers, then grabbed her robe and left the room. Maybe he was in Sarek's office. That was a good place for solitude. As she neared, though, she saw that no one was there, so she tiptoed down the hall toward the den. No, he wasn't in the den, either, nor was he in the kitchen. Where else could he be? While the family estate near Gol was grand, with forbiddingly high walls and cold stone floors, this home was modest. There just really weren't very many places a person could go.

Her hands on her hips, she paused in the den, gnawing on her lip as she wondered where he might be. She couldn't pick up a thing through their bond, but she didn't think he'd actually gone anywhere. Wait a minute... Narrowing her eyes, she walked toward the back window. Something was different about the garden. What could it be?

There.

The bench was gone. How odd. In its place were two trenches through the sand, as if someone had lifted one end of the bench and dragged it through the back gate, into the desert.

Well, one mystery solved. Now to solve the new one.

Pulling her robe tighter, she stepped out the back door. She'd always thought it amazing that this back yard was so pleasant, especially considering that the harsh, unforgiving desert waited just on the other side of the wall. Every now and then, she would peek through the gate, and once Spock had even taken her for a short walk toward the nearby foothills. It had been hard going, though, and between the heat and the unstable footing and the threat of carnivorous animals lurking mostly in her imagination, she hadn't wanted to venture far.

She eased the gate open and leaned around to see that she had found him. He'd placed the bench against the wall, and he now sat with his hands clasped on his lap, staring across the featureless desert toward the horizon.

She hesitated, surprised by the open, relaxed expression on his face. She'd expected to find depression or, worse, cold nothingness.

"Uh, Spock?"

He shifted his gaze in her direction, obviously already aware of her presence. "Good morning, Nyota. Did I wake you?"

"No, not at all. I wake up at this time every day, and I just happened to notice that you were gone." She rubbed her arms, chilled by the cool air coming off the desert. "Is everything all right?"

"I am fine. I merely wished to witness the sunrise." Sliding to one side of the bench, he held up his arm. "Are you cold? I will keep you warm."

"Thanks."

She moved quickly to the vacant spot beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Leaning against his solid warmth, she took a deep breath of relief. She'd come out here expecting to find that yesterday's discussion had sent him into a tailspin, but there was no denying the optimism in his voice.

Neither of them spoke as they studied the sky, with its hints of maroon sneaking across the all-encompassing deep purple. Vulcan's sun rose slowly in comparison to Earth's, and she sometimes thought that if the same artist had painted both sunrises, he must have used an entirely different palette for Vulcan's. On Earth, you saw pinks and pale yellows, but this sky would soon be all purples and reds and violent oranges. Nothing soft or pastel here.

Finally, he said, "You were right."

She glanced up, but he didn't look away from the horizon.

"About what?" she asked.

"The mindmeld. You were right. I should not have forced myself on Valeris. It violated everything I have ever believed. It was wrong. I was acting from guilt and anger, and I should not have allowed Jim to ask me to do it. Yet... given the chance to do it over, I do not think I would change my actions."

She swallowed, unable to respond.

He continued. "Years ago I sacrificed myself for the good of the ship. Was it so different this time? The stakes were much higher-not just my friends but the future of the Federation itself."

"Do you think that makes it okay?" she asked gently.

"No." He finally dropped his eyes. "But it is the best I can do. It was a true no-win scenario. Before, everything was made right in the end, but there is no way to avoid the consequences this time. I did it, Nyota. I am sorry. For everything."

"Oh, God."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and suddenly Dr. McCoy's words came back to haunt her.

_You hold Spock to such high standards, and when he does something that demonstrates imperfection, you can't accept it._

Dr. McCoy was right. He was right all along.

Drawing a deep breath, she said, "Maybe you didn't handle it as gracefully as you could have, but you did what you thought was best in a bad situation, and I was judge and jury. Without even looking at all the evidence, I condemned you for being less than perfect. Now you're apologizing for being less than perfect. I've been so unfair to you."

"Nyota-"

"Please let me say this. When I went to the Lexington, I thought that I was just giving you time to get your head together. Now I see that I was the one who had to learn. It was the same old lesson, too, the one I've had to learn before. I just can't seem to get it through my thick head."

He tightened his grip around her shoulders. "Which lesson would that be?"

"To listen to you. To trust you. To be patient. To understand that I'm not the one who needs to control the situation every time. I even thought about how history was repeating itself, but I didn't make the connection. It was me making the same mistake, not you. And maybe... I wanted to punish you for not doing what I thought was right. I was proud of you for your accomplishments with the Klingons, but then those very same feelings worked against me when I didn't agree with what you had done. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, absolutely. As a matter of fact, I knew that you were punishing me, but I did nothing to defend myself. I did not think myself worth defending. I never realized that I could play the martyr so effectively. Perhaps that was my way of punishing you."

She nodded slowly. "I told Saavik once that the people you hurt the most are usually the people you love the most. We did a pretty good job of it, didn't we? And not only did we make mistakes with each other, we made mistakes with ourselves. What a tangled mess."

He didn't respond immediately, and she could tell that he was thinking about what she had said.

Finally, he murmured, "What happens next? To us."

"We adjust, and we move on. I can't imagine it any other way."

"Nor can I." He paused. "Am I still a rapist in your eyes?"

Gazing upward, she saw that maroon had spread across the heavens.

"You're my husband, Spock. You're an honest, complicated man who tries to do what's right. Are you a rapist in your own eyes?"

"What I did does not define who I am."

She smiled sadly. "That's not an answer."

"It is the only answer I can give you."

She shifted, bringing her feet up onto the bench and tucking them beneath her robe. He was right. There wasn't a good answer this time. And she seemed to have forgotten that there was a difference between a person's actions and that person himself. It reminded her of what her mother had often told her when she was a child: 'I love you, but I don't love what you did.' Her mother was a wise woman.

At the farthest reaches of the horizon, maroon segued into orange. She inhaled, noticing the exotic scents that blew across the desert.

"Spock, I'm curious. What made you think to come out here?"

He began to stroke her arm.

"Much to my mother's chagrin, I often sought out the desert when unsettled as a child. She insisted that I not wander alone, but the lure was too great. I could not resist. Our compromise came when she placed a bench here specifically for my use. While the bench is long gone, the impulse to come to the desert is not."

She nodded. "I thought that this seemed like something you had done before."

"But never in such comfort with a woman under my arm. Jim would be proud. Years ago, he asked me if I had ever brought 'girls' out here. Of course I told him that it had never occurred to me. His reply, if I recall correctly, was 'What a shame.'"

His voice was light, but she heard the sorrow caused by this memory of his closest friend. Although she felt an answering twinge, she knew that her own feelings were partly selfish. She and Spock might be able to straighten things out between them, but the angry words she had exchanged with Captain Kirk would be her last words with him forever.

"The captain..." She frowned. "I feel so bad, Spock. After I jumped all over you for the mindmeld with Valeris, I went to Captain Kirk. I was looking for someone to blame, and I said some things I probably shouldn't have said. Did you know that?"

"No. He never mentioned it. What did you say?"

"That he always asked too much of you. That you could never tell him no, and that he deliberately took advantage of that. He disagreed. It was pretty ugly. We never really spoke again after that."

He made a small noise, and she glanced up to see that he was staring at his feet, an eyebrow raised.

"Ironic," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"My last words with Jim were also angry and over that same topic."

"What happened?"

"He wished for me to join him on the maiden voyage of the Enterprise B. His request was actually very reasonable, but he pushed too hard. He assumed that I would agree simply because he asked, and I overreacted. I told him no. He died alone."

She closed her eyes. "Oh no, Spock. It was my fault you weren't with him."

"Not directly. It was my choice not to accompany him."

"I'm so sorry."

"Do not apologize. I do not hold you responsible." He sighed. "No, that is not true. We are finally being honest with one another, so I must tell you that I did hold you responsible. When Jim died, I felt that you had driven a wedge between us. Yet when you returned for the funeral, I was pathetically glad to see you."

"Oh, Lord." She turned her face toward his shoulder. "I wish that I could take it all back-the argument with the captain, the way I harped on you for doing what he said, the way I refused to let it go."

"And I would be pleased if I could retract my angry refusal to join him on that fatal voyage. Even as I indulged my resentment toward him, however, I knew that we would later make amends. One never expects that the opportunity might never-"

Abruptly falling silent, he straightened, removing his arm from her shoulder and turning toward the house. She followed his gaze, and a moment later Amanda leaned around the gate.

"Sorry to disturb you two, but Sarek just came in from the Embassy. Something was delivered to him last night. It's for you, Nyota, and when I saw that the door to your room was open, I, well, I thought you might be interested."

Uhura nodded. "Sure."

Demurely gripping the top of her robe, Amanda moved through the gate and held a small paper envelope in Uhura's direction. It was a bit crumpled, with writing all over the front where it had been forwarded multiple times.

Mystified, Uhura frowned as she accepted it, but a moment later she realized who it was from. She looked back up at Amanda in disbelief and murmured, "Thank you."

Amanda nodded, and slipped back through the gate.

"What is it?" Spock asked.

A glowing red aura had begun to creep over the mountains, and she felt tears sting her eyes at its blinding brightness. She held the letter in his direction and watched as comprehension settled on his features.

"It is from Jim," he said starkly.

She nodded. "Look at this. It was addressed to me on the Lexington, but someone marked through that and wrote our address on Earth. Then someone scratched through that and addressed it to me in care of Sarek. It must have been Mrs. Stevenson, since she was picking up our mail, but all she knew was that we were in ShiKahr and that Sarek worked with the Vulcan Consulate."

"I am surprised that this found you at all."

"Me, too."

She turned the envelope in her fingers and took a deep breath. "I guess I'd better find out what it says."

Carefully tearing the top of the envelope, she took out the letter and unfolded it, and began reading. After a few words, she had to stop and blink.

She leaned close to Spock. "I think that you will want to see this, too."

"Very well."

She started at the top again, and they were both quiet as they read the words so carefully written on the single piece of paper.

_Dear Nyota_, it began. The captain never called her Nyota.

_Dear Nyota,_

_I have to keep this short, because I must leave soon for the christening of the Enterprise B. I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to this momentous occasion or not. I always enjoy being on the Enterprise, but it will seem strange to board a version of our ship that isn't our ship._

_You're probably wondering why I'm writing. I know that things have been strained between us, but something happened yesterday to open my eyes. I called Spock, wanting him to come with me today, and he surprised me. He said no. Simple enough, huh? There was actually more to it than that-he was pretty upset with me-but I thought about it all night. I understand now that his reaction over the christening was just a substitute for something much bigger._

_You were right to be angry with me, Uhura. You tried to tell me that I'd asked too much of him, but I refused to see it. You tried to tell me that he would have done anything to atone for putting me in jeopardy, but I dismissed the thought. Did you know that I accused him of not trusting me? Spock, the most trusting and loyal man I've ever known, and I made him feel like he had to prove himself to me. You even tried to tell me that what he did might destroy him someday, but I didn't believe you. Everything was right there in front of me-his distress, your distress, the conflict between the two of you-but I put on my blinders and failed you both. I see now that I even went out of my way to avoid being with you, because deep down I knew what I might be forced to admit. Well, you've heard the saying "To err is human, to forgive is divine"? I'm asking you to forgive me. I made some big mistakes, and I'm sorry._

_Time to go. In closing just let me say that he needs you. Please try to understand what he did. Please accept that I never meant to harm either of you._

_Please, just come back._

_Love,_

_Jim_

Lowering the letter to her lap, she looked up at Spock.

He swallowed. "To err is human... We are, after all, only human."

She tilted her head as she studied his face.

"It is something," he said softly, "that Jim tried to tell me during our last voyage on the Enterprise."

"Good words."

"Yes." He held up his arm to make room for her next to him. "Yes, they are."

She slipped the letter into her pocket, then slid close and gazed out at the mountains. A shimmering semi-circle had risen into view, banishing the haze and spilling brilliant rays across the desert. The sky bled with pure, unmuddied reds and oranges, and while she watched, a single bird wheeled in the distance and disappeared. Wouldn't it be wonderful to wake to something like this every day?

"You know..." She rested her hand on his knee. "I think I'd like to live here. On Vulcan."

He removed his arm, drawing back so he could see her face. "Really? I had no idea. Where did this thought originate?"

She shrugged. "It just seems right. There's nothing for us on Earth anymore. You haven't found a job you like, and Dr. McCoy has his grandkids. The captain is gone. Saavik is off having her own adventures, Sulu has his own ship, Chekov never comes around, and Scotty won't like retirement."

"What about your job?"

She pressed her lips together. "You were right about the Lexington. They asked me to become the permanent first officer."

"Ah. Congratulations."

"I turned them down."

"You did? When did this happen?"

"Just days before Captain Kirk died. I was going to tell you when I talked to you, but I never had a chance. I want to resign my commission, Spock. It's no fun without you and everyone else. I'm ready to move on."

"Well." He leaned back on the bench again. "You are full of surprises this morning, Nyota."

"We can buy a home in ShiKahr. Neither of us will have any problem finding a job." She reached for his hands. "Let's move to Vulcan. It's time for a change."

He considered it for a long moment, but finally he raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Very well. We shall do it."

She grinned and stood. "We'd better get busy, then. We can't keep our future waiting."

Together, they walked through the gate and headed toward the house.

End story

The next story in this series is Listening for the Waves.


End file.
